She looked down at the grave, almost smiling. “He thought he was invincible…”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, lifting a caustic brow.
Throwing back her head, she laughed. “The English; they always have a way with words … the right response for each occasion. Well, let me tell you something, I’ll see justice done. Let that bitch know we’ll see her in court. She won’t get a penny of my husband’s money.”
“He’s not your husband anymore,” I replied, but she’d swept out of earshot.
Relieved, for I was in no mood to go to war against a woman whom I knew only by reputation, I picked up my mother’s shawl. The moist ground left it damp and I stood awhile watching the grave diggers complete their job.
“Sad business, this is,” the older gray-haired one said to me. “I dug her parents’ graves, y’know. Poor Miss Ellen. So much tragedy for one so young.”
“Do you know the family well, Mr.…?”
“Haines, it is. Me and mine been here abouts me whole life.”
“Then perhaps you remember me? As a young girl, Ellen and I used to ride through the woods.”
Leaning on his shovel, the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“My hair was cropped short like a boy,” I added.
“Ay.” Haines grinned wide. “I think I might do. Used to lend a hand up at the manor in those days. So did the Missus.” He shook his head. “My Mary’s softhearted. She didn’t like it when Sir Richard and Lady Gertrude turned out Miss Ellen durin’ the war with the lad dyin’ and all.”
I gazed down at the grave and shivered. “It shouldn’t have ended this way. They should have lived happily ever after.”
“Oh, that’s a fairy tale, miss!” Haines sniffed the air. “Bad bones lie about this place. Ever since Mr. Xavier died.”
“He was the darling of the family,” I murmured.
“He were that,” Haines confirmed. “Handsome lad. He’d not have turned out his sister, either, if he were alive when she got herself into trouble.”
“If only.” I smiled. “But the ‘if onlys’ are always ineffectual. The time has long since passed.” However, I couldn’t help wondering how things might have turned out, as Haines said, if Xavier hadn’t died. I could imagine him ensuring the wedding went through between his sister and Teddy Grimshaw. Then Charlotte wouldn’t have missed knowing her father for eight years and Ellen wouldn’t have suffered alone all those years.
Oh, it was too cruel.
I left the gravesite promising Haines I’d visit his home sometime. He said it would make Mary’s day to have such a grand lady visit, one she might remember as a child.
Grand lady! I didn’t think myself one; in fact, the term caused me profound amusement.
I returned to the house through the servants’ entrance. I wanted to see Nelly in the kitchen but I only found her helper Annie stirring a stew there.
“Oh, miss, I’ll be glad when they all leave. We’re overrun here and that Lady Pringle, I can’t get a thing right! ‘The tea’s too cold,’ ‘the eggs are overdone!’”
“Never mind, Annie. Now the funeral is over, they will pack up and go, one by one.”
“Aye, and the sooner the better.”
* * *
My mother was of the same opinion. Stirring sugar into my father’s cup of tea, she expressed their desire to leave the next day.
“We have no wish to burden poor Ellen…”
“But she looks upon you as a mother,” I protested.
“No, she is old enough and a mother herself,” my mother overruled. “We do feel it’s best, don’t we, Gerald darling?”
My father looked up from his newspaper. “Yes, dear.”
“And Jeanne and Angela? Are they going, too?”
Noting the forlorn note in my voice, my mother poured me a cup of tea. “Sit down, dear. As Ellen’s particular friend, you are the only one who should stay and help her through this difficult time.”
I was beginning to feel deserted.
“The Fenwicks are leaving tomorrow, and I believe the Americans will shortly follow suit.”
“Megan?” I began, hopeful.
“Megan may stay a little while—”
“No she won’t.” Angela marched into the room, ablaze in a stage of flurried packing. “There’s the Lavingsham soiree next weekend. She’ll want to get back to London.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m off to Scotland,” Angela announced.
“Jeanne?” I appealed to my younger sister.
“I’ll stay awhile.” She peered up from her book. “Can I, Papa?”
“If you keep up with your studies,” my father agreed. “And as long as Daphne promises to look after you.”
“Oh, I will, Papa,” I vowed, overjoyed to have at least one member of my family stay with me. It was not that I feared being alone; however, since Ellen had Charlotte to care for and I had Major Browning to contend with, I felt I needed a little family support.
Perhaps I did fear being alone.
Death had come to Thornleigh and it frightened me.
CHAPTER TEN
After the funeral, silence reigned in the house.
I spotted Nelly and her helpers putting the final touches to the afternoon tea. It was the strangest wake I’d ever been to; nobody knew what to say so limited themselves to the essential subjects of the news and the weather.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Mr. Dean Fairchild said to me, filling his plate with a selection of Nelly’s tasty little Cornish pasties. “By oath, I’ll miss these when I go home.”
“When will you go home, Mr. Fairchild?”
“Not for some time yet. Uncle Ted brought me over here to start up a new branch for our tobacco company.”
“What will happen now, with all the businesses?”
“I’ve no idea. I assume Uncle Ted left instructions in his will.”
I nodded, driving my fork into a sweet orange tart. “It’s no surprise your cousin and her mother aren’t here … I had words with Cynthia Grimshaw at the gravesite.”
“Ah.” He leaned over, interested. “What did she say?”
“She’s talking of going to court. For the money.”
“She’s a greedy termagant. The word is she’s low on funds; bad investments and costly living. She’ll use Rosalie but she’ll want the money for herself.”
“Are you close to your cousin?” I asked, guiding him away from the eagle eye of his mother and aunt.
“Relatively so,” he assuaged. “Rosalie and I have never seen eye to eye. She gets on better with cousin Jack.”
My gaze drifted to where cousin Jack sat sipping tea with Sophie and Amy. The definitive ladies’ man, he liked his clothes, combed his fair hair to one side, and wore the thinnest moustache. His demeanor was always suggestive and charming without being too scandalous. “Do you work with Jack?”
“No!” the answer fired quickly. “We do all right in social circles but that’s it. Jack’s a—how should I say?—man of the moment. He can’t stay put anywhere so Uncle Ted uses him to represent us, stir up new business contracts, and that kind of thing.”
“Now, Daphne,” Megan Kellaway wandered to us, “you mustn’t monopolize our American friends. Mr. Fairchild,” she extended an arm, “I’d love to hear more about your home, and have you ever been to New York?”
Letting them slip by me to walk in the gardens, I found myself a quiet corner from which to study the other funeral attendees. There were faces I didn’t know and I wondered if they belonged to the business world. Quite possibly, as I spied Major Browning speaking with one of them, their voices low and grim.
Across the room, Ellen sat with my mother, her face drawn and vacant. She scarcely blinked when Charlotte sang “Yankee Doodle” under the direction of her doting American aunts. The two ladies remarked how much the child looked like her father.
“Hello there,” murmured a smug Jack Grimshaw in my ear.
“
Hello,” I said, still watching Charlotte.
“I’ve just been speaking with your father. He’s a fascinating man.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He suggests I should visit the theater while I’m here.”
“You should.”
“And he says you’re the best person to accompany me.”
I looked up, horrified. I didn’t believe him. He teased with a sincerity I found disturbing.
“Let’s make a date, shall we?” Flicking out his little flip-pad, he poised his pencil. “How about next month or the month after? You’ll be in town then.”
“I’m not sure if I will be.” I bristled against his brazen attitude. What did he think? I had nothing better to do than to entertain him?
“Then we will surely meet up at the premiere of your father’s new play.” He smiled, leaving me to pursue Megan Kellaway.
Angela whispered to me from behind. “What do you think of him? He’d make somebody a great lover.”
“Ange! If Mother heard you speak that way—”
“Mother’s quite safely out of earshot. Jack Grimshaw’s after money. He’s heard of Megan’s dowry, no doubt.”
“Megan’s not stupid,” I put in, observing the upset look on Dean Fairchild’s face. “He may have some competition.”
“Oh, the other one. He has more to his name. Do you know Papa has invited them both to our house in London?”
I pursed my lips. “I hope he’s not trying to match us to one of them.”
“Our parents think our settling down will absolve them of future responsibility. Marriage is the only solution in their book.”
“And in our book?” A tight smile crossed my lips upon seeing Major Browning carting a cup of tea to Lady Lara. I had endured his assiduous ministrations to her and her parents during the funeral and found the whole facade sickening.
“Two-timing is he?”
Angela missed nothing.
“What story did he tell you? Something about her father being sick and it was the parents’ dearest wish that they marry?”
I stared at her, aghast.
“If it’s a pretense,” she went on, “why has her mother reserved the Savoy for a wedding reception?”
Holding my breath, I felt the blood drain from my face. “How do you know this?”
“I overheard the countess say so just now.”
I looked over her shoulder to see the earl and the countess seated beside their daughter and Major Browning. “Was he there when you heard?”
“Yes,” Angela replied.
“And he said nothing?”
“No, he said nothing.”
“Did he smile? Was there any expression whatsoever?”
“He did smile once,” Angela recalled, “and patted Lara’s hand.”
Green fury consumed me. Jealousy. I didn’t like the emotion; it pained my heart and robbed me of peace. But I refused to believe it true.
“People are staring at us,” Angela whispered. “Best turn around and have another cup of tea.”
Have a cup of tea. I didn’t want a cup of tea. Why did everyone always assume a cup of tea would fix everything?
Not I. I needed to go for a walk and stormed off to the woods without a by-your-leave. I hoped, upon my return, to find Thornleigh rid of the Rutland party.
The chill air arrested me. I shivered. Something about funerals left me empty and cold. And the death of a millionaire on the eve of his wedding was going to attract attention. I wondered what the newspapers would make of it.
Walking farther into the woods, I fancied I heard a faint moan. Pausing, I began to turn back. Then I heard it again.
Ensuring not to tread on any crunchy leaves, I tiptoed toward the noise. Catching a glimpse of clothing and naked arms through the trees, I questioned the wisdom of my curiosity. Lovers in the woods. I almost envied them.
Until I saw who they were …
Rosalie and Jack Grimshaw.
Drawing away, my face hot, I hurried from the site. Cousins … and lovers. On the day of her father’s funeral? Shocked, I considered all the possibilities such a relationship suggested. Cousins and allies.
Allies in the death of Rosalie’s father?
* * *
“Daphne,” said my father in his most austere tone. “Ellen has asked if you may stay on and who are we to begrudge her tho’ your mother and I don’t like you so near Ellen at this time.”
“Oh?” Leaving the bathroom, I paused. Had Ellen confessed to my parents about the death threats? Had she, as Teddy’s widow, received more?
“The policeman came while you were out,” my mother informed. “Ellen had retired so your father received him.”
Drying my hair with a towel, I thought I’d better sit down.
“Teddy Grimshaw died of cardiac failure due to hemlock poisoning,” my father proclaimed as though he were acting in a play.
“The hemlock caused the heart attack,” my mother explained. “The policeman said it was a rare form, water hemlock. He’ll be back tomorrow to ask Ellen more questions.”
“Are they saying it’s murder?” I asked.
“Not yet,” my father answered. “But whatever it is it’s highly suspicious. They might be after Ellen next. Money breeds desperate people.”
I stopped, thinking of the entwined lovers in the woods. “You don’t think one of the family poisoned him?”
My father shrugged. “Why not? They all stand to benefit from his death.”
“The policeman said there will be an investigation. Your father has relayed all this to Ellen and we’ve asked her to come home with us, but she is adamant she wants to stay near Teddy. So you’ll stay with her and try to convince her to come with you when you come home. She’ll need people around her at this time, especially if a murderer is out there.”
Glancing up at my father, my mother frowned.
My father seemed to read her thoughts. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Muriel, but Daphne’s Ellen’s friend.”
“But she is unchaperoned.”
Upon hearing this, I searched the room for Angela. She, conveniently, had disappeared. “And what need have I for a chaperone?” I presented innocently.
“Major Browning and you,” my father said. “Ellen mentioned he’ll be about the place. As an engaged man, I don’t want you alone with him, out of respect for you and for his fiancée.”
“As it happens,” my mother put in, “the countess has raised similar concerns when she heard you are assisting the major with Ellen’s papers. She asked quite pointedly if there’d ever been anything between you.”
I blushed. I couldn’t help thinking of that stolen kiss in Ellen’s study. Oh dear! I should have a deeper care for my reputation. “And what did you reply, Mama?”
“I know my daughter. You still are bemused by the man.”
“Bemused!” I half choked. “I most certainly am not—”
“A heated reply often betrays a burning heart.” My father grinned. “Ah, girl, he’s a handsome man. But I thought you were stronger. He hurt you with his engagement and from what I understand from Rutland, it’s serious.”
I studied both of them. “You think he won’t break it off?”
There was a long pause before my father slowly shook his head. “Lady Lara stands to inherit the bulk of Rutland’s fortune. I, on the other hand, am not so well oiled. I can’t match him.”
“Not all men, Father, are after money.”
“Don’t use a hostile tone with me, young lady. I’m only watching out for you. I don’t want my little girl hurt.”
“Nor do I,” my mother murmured, eagerly scanning my face. “That’s why Jeanne will stay.” She waved a hand. “Ellen’s quite aware of it. When you and the major are working, Jeanne will be there, reading a book or working on her school assignments. She has been instructed that you are not to be alone with the major. I don’t want my daughter ruined.”
I don’t want my daughter ruined. Warming, wasn’t it
, my parents’ faith in me? But they were not privy to the real reason behind the major’s public engagement to Lady Lara and I wished I could blurt out the truth. He’s not really engaged at all. It’s all a farce!
However, a niggling doubt had taken root with my father’s words, and Angela’s comments the day before. The earl of Rutland had only one daughter. He was a very rich man. My heart sank at the hard fact. Why shouldn’t a man like Major Browning take up the earl’s and no doubt Lady Lara’s offer?
I returned to my room in a sombre mood. Rather than wallowing in self-despair, I took out my notepad and began to write. Since my modest success with the Widow story, I yearned to complete a novel.
Tapping my pencil against my chin, I decided on the setting: Cornwall. Cornwall and I belonged together, so must my book. And while I was here, I needed something else to focus on than Ellen’s grief, her financial affairs, and Major Browning.
What should I start with, character or plot? Character. A character, like myself, in love with Cornwall. Putting pencil to pad, I began to sketch the essence of a woman. Here was the freedom I desired, long sought for, not yet known. Freedom to write, to walk, to wander. Freedom to climb hill, to pull a boat, to be alone …
Freedom to act as I pleased, a free and loving spirit.
I decided to call her Janet.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Is Janet rich or poor?”
Staring at Jeanne over the breakfast table, I nibbled on a piece of toast. “Middle class.”
“And where are you setting it?”
“In a Cornish village. I don’t know which one yet. I’ll have to do some exploring. I want something close to the sea.”
“Ah, boats.” Ellen smiled faintly, helping Charlotte to crack her egg. “You love boats, Daphne, but you haven’t had a chance at sailing much, have you?” A wistful look came into her face. “Teddy loved to sail. We did hope you’d come to Italy with us on the yacht.”
“I would have loved to,” I replied, keen to change the subject. “I’m really determined this year to write a full novel. It’s like a feverish madness burning within me.”
“Then by all means work on it,” Ellen advised. “It’s quiet here, now everyone has gone. I hope you don’t mind staying on?”
The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) Page 8
