“What if the case doesn’t close?” Ellen shrieked. “What about my daughter? Our safety?”
“Rest assured, Mrs. Grimshaw, you have taken the necessary precautions and you are surrounded by friends here. I would advise, however, you keep your daughter close to you, even when you travel to these monthly meetings.”
Ellen sat up. “Why do you say so? Do you think they’ll strike her next?”
“We cannot predict the mind of a madman, madam.”
“Or a madwoman,” I put in.
“So.” The inspector flipped out his notepad. “According to my initial questions, you attest that on the day of your husband’s death you never saw him until at the wedding ceremony?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Ellen whispered. “I wish I had … but it’s tradition not to see the bride until the ceremony.”
“What about you, Miss Daphne? Did you see Mr. Grimshaw on the day of the wedding?”
I stretched my mind back, running past each event of the day. Most of it seemed a blur because of the tragedy. “I believe I saw him in the morning … going into the library.”
“What time was this?”
“Just before lunch.”
“Was he alone?”
“As far as I could see, but as you know, Thornleigh was crowded with visitors.”
The inspector nodded. “Did you at any time see Mr. Grimshaw speak to Miss Rosalie on the day?”
“No … I was mostly in the bride’s room, preparing as bridesmaids do.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grimshaw, Miss du Maurier. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to question the household staff once more … I’ll start with Nelly, the cook.”
I led the inspector and his sergeant down to the kitchen.
“Nelly,” I said, “the police are here. They want to talk to you.”
Her face turned bright red. “What do they want to talk to me for? There’s no poison in my food, I’ll have ye know—oh, Inspector,” she greeted, “what’ll it be? Tea? Custard tart?”
“Nothing, thanks, Nelly—”
“Oh, sir,” his sergeant spoke up, “I’ll have a custard tart.” He grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Nelly.”
“Oh, just call me Nelly, lad. Or Nell. That’s what the old master used to call me. And there was never once any trouble with my food, not since I began in service. Ye ask anyone. Isn’t that right, Miss Daphne?”
“Very true,” I asserted.
“From the postmortem, the poison alone didn’t kill Mr. Grimshaw. He had a heart condition. A healthy heart may have withstood the poison.”
Nelly bristled at the word “poison” again. “It’s not my cookin’, I’ll tell ye. Mr. Grimshaw didn’t even eat much that day. He said he had no stomach for it. Nerves, and all that.”
“When was the last time he ate, according to your knowledge?” the sergeant asked.
Nelly thought hard. “He had the usual for breakfast, eggs and a muffin. He skipped lunch and asked only for coffee. I sent up coffee and biscuits in the afternoon to his room.”
“What time was this?”
“About two o’clock, if I remember. Yes, for that’s when those Americans complained about the cold tea. They serve it hot in America, I’m told.”
“I’m sure it was no slight on you, Nelly,” the sergeant soothed her.
“Well,” Nelly rolled her eyes, “I’ve never heard so many complaints in all my life … I’m glad they’re gone.”
“Do you believe any of them had a reason to murder Mr. Grimshaw?”
“They all did. They all wanted his money. That’s easy enough to see.”
* * *
I thought about Nelly’s protestation that afternoon. They all wanted his money. I hadn’t realized until then how they must hate Ellen. His relatives.
Escaping to my room, Ellen safely with Alicia and Charlotte, I scribbled down the names in the back of my notebook. Teddy’s sisters had come to the wedding to show their support but I wondered if they really supported it. In any case, they were unlikely to murder their own brother. I ruled them out.
As for the cousins, Jack Grimshaw leapt first on my page. His association with Rosalie put him at the top of the list.
Jack and Rosalie. I shuddered when I thought of them together in the woods. Had they planned the murder? Had they also planned on Rosalie receiving a fair amount of her father’s fortune?
Ellen and Charlotte. Though I believed infallibly in my friend’s innocence, it still had to be considered. I was certain Inspector James included her in his list of suspects.
Alicia Brickley. Was something sinister hiding behind her calm repose and her seeming devotion to Charlotte?
And lastly, the unknown author of those letters. Someone Teddy Grimshaw bankrupted through his business dealings?
Cynthia Grimshaw. Would she go to any lengths—even murder—to ensure her daughter’s inheritance? I recalled her face at the will reading. Shock. Shock upon hearing the news that her murderous attempt bore little fruit?
Now I had my main suspects, I drew a big question mark on the opposite page. A dollar sign took the shape below it.
“Daphne?”
My heart beating, I shut my book and hid it under another.
“I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” Ellen came into my room. “Am I disturbing you? Are you writing letters?”
“No, working on my book,” I lied, scraping my chair along to further conceal the contents of my desk. “But I’m not really in the mood.”
“Excellent. Then why don’t you join me in the violet room? I can’t sit around idly and cry all day so I thought I’d better continue the renovations. You can help me paint.”
Feeling guilty for putting her name down in my book, I was eager to comply.
“You’ll need an old smock or something. Do you have one? No matter; I have plenty. A souvenir from my poor years.”
Her joke carried a bitter tone to it.
“Oh, I don’t mind hard work,” she said on our way to the violet room. “My brother and I always liked to work in the garden and in the kitchen. Nelly had to chase us out! Mother, of course, disapproved. She disapproved of everything I did.”
“You committed the mortal sin,” I reminded her. “Fell in love with an American and not Lord Penthrow.”
“Yes,” she sighed, “and then having a child out of wedlock. I caused a great scandal and my own father disowned me. He refused to meet Charlotte.”
“Those were awful years for you…”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes and no. Charlotte and I had each other. And there was Harry. Faithful Harry.”
Faithful Harry. I hadn’t thought of him as a suspect, had I? But he had more reason than any if he fancied Ellen. “Did Harry ever ask to court you?”
She laughed. “Harry’s just a friend. He’s always known that.”
“But did he?” I persisted.
She frowned. “Where is this questioning leading? You mustn’t think any ill of Harry. He’d not harm a garden worm. He’s the most gentle man I know.”
“And he did look after you during the poverty … when your parents…” I glanced at the floor. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend her feelings when my parents had always supported me. Would they have supported me, I wondered, if I’d had an affair with an American and bore a child out of wedlock?
“Let us not speak ill of the dead. Those years are gone and my parents are gone with them. Sometimes I do think they wanted to make amends … but it was too late. Timing has never favored me.”
Nodding, I changed the subject by noting that I loved the violet room.
“I plan to make this guest bedroom the best.” Ellen led me through the maze of sheets, tools, and utensils. “For the beds and nightstand I’ve chosen erstwhile lavender—it’s lovely against the pink-and-white stippled wall and perfect for the deep violet carpet and the chintz of the upholstery. The dressing table, you can see, is white, and I purchased antique gold for the mirrors. The bedspreads, wrapped over there for
when we’re done, are crimson and violet with a softer mauve weaved through. And the lampshades, Daphne, you are going to design with me. It’ll be our little project.”
I said I’d never done lampshades.
“Oh, haven’t you? It’s great fun. Like making one’s own hat for the races.”
I said I’d never worn a hat to the races, either.
“Perhaps the major will take you one day?”
Her eyes twinkled. “What did Lady Lara want with you?”
Avoiding her candid stare, I picked up one of the velvet cushions. “To warn me off her man.”
“But he’s not really hers, is he?”
I fought with myself then. Do I confide in Ellen or do I not?
“The major will make up his mind and if he’s any taste at all, he’ll choose you.”
“But why should he choose me over a rich and beautiful heiress?”
“Because, well, you’re different.”
I was curious. “How do you mean, different?”
“You’re a published writer, for one.”
“Only in story form. It’s novels which matter.”
“Not in everyone’s eyes. You’re intelligent and attractive. It’s a lethal combination. Lady Lara, behind her cool veneer, is not so smart.”
Helping her apply paint to the wall around the fireplace, I smiled. “You’re a loyal friend. I’m not sure his family would consider me a better choice over Lady Lara…”
She paused. “Has he asked you to meet his family?”
“No.” My heart sunk. “He took me to meet his godmother, though. She said he’d never taken any other girls there.”
“That’s something. What does your family think of him?”
“After Somner House they knew we had an understanding. Angela blurted it out one night so when we came to your wedding it was a shock to see him with Lady Lara.”
“He never mentioned her?”
“Not once.” I lowered my eyes. I had to tell her. “He says the engagement is a sham and he entered into it for the sake of her sick father.”
Ellen put aside her paintbrush. “What?”
“Yes, that’s what he told me. She begged him, and he conceded. It’s been an arrangement for some while.”
“How long is it meant to last? Until the earl is dead?”
“I suspect so.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t signify. I’m not ready for marriage yet and we’ve never discussed anything remotely related to the subject.”
“But anyone can see you’re meant to be together,” Ellen insisted. “Wherever you go, he shows up. That’s got to be a sign.”
I wanted to believe her. Part of me did, but in the game of love, one should heed caution. I’d seen too many broken hearts amongst my peers to suffer alongside them. I didn’t mind writing about love, but to agonize like my heroines, no, not me. I’d rather die alone like the Brontë sisters.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I next saw the major a week later.
In his usual style, he sent no word to warn of his arrival.
Ellen and I received him in the tearoom.
“Forgive my absence,” he said, raising first my hand to his lips and then Ellen’s. “I was unavoidably delayed. I trust you kept the files safe under lock and key while I was away?”
“Yes.” Ellen nodded. “Daphne and Jeanne did a good job of guarding them. There’s no one to fear here, in any case. I trust everyone and all the servants.”
Something flickered in the major’s eyes at this statement.
“Inspector James paid us a visit. He has a very pleasant sergeant. He won over Nelly in a heartbeat.”
“I’ve heard he’s a good man, James. Very thorough. Exactly what you need for this case.”
“‘Case,’” Ellen echoed, turning pale. “If my husband died of foul play, I can’t see how anyone can catch the culprit.”
“No murder is perfect, Mrs. Grimshaw.”
“Murder.” She lowered her head and served the tea, her smile sad and reflective. “Teddy was such a vibrant, robust man. Clever and affectionate. I just can’t accept that someone would deliberately kill him in cold blood.”
“If he had been an ordinary man, there wouldn’t be much of a case,” the major replied, accepting the fresh cup of tea from her hand. “However,” he added milk and one teaspoon of sugar and stirred it thoughtfully, “his will and his affairs are complex. Hence the investigation.”
“What of those threatening notes and chocolate?” I brought up. “Whoever perpetrated the crime is not keen to stop. Ellen and I could have died.”
“Poisoned chocolates.” Resting back on one of the sofas, the major studied me. “I thought you prefer savory to sweets.”
“Then you don’t know women,” Ellen answered. “All women love chocolate.”
“And flowers,” added the major.
“I’d prefer a book or an antique necklace, actually,” I said, feeling the need to defend my sex. “You sound like my father, Major Browning. Encapsulating all women in one sarcophagus. Sometimes the mummy breaks forth, you know.”
Ellen and the major laughed.
“See,” Ellen beamed, “isn’t she a gem? So, so different from most girls, wouldn’t you agree, Major? Oh. Is that the time? I promised Charlotte I’d help with her English assignment. Can I leave you in Daphne’s hands?”
After she left, he discarded his tea. “My work here is done. I came back to see you.”
I swallowed my disappointment to think he’d go away again so soon. I hadn’t expected this. “I thought we’d only just begun…”
“I came here to investigate a company and its transactions.”
“Gildersberg?”
“Yes. The Yard is sending me to Germany. I leave tomorrow.”
I swallowed again. He was leaving. Leaving the country. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know … Dean Fairchild and Jack Grimshaw are already on their way there.”
I sat down. “I see. What about Ellen? She feels safer when you are around.”
“Inspector James is close by … he’s working another case in the area.”
“But,” my mind raced ahead, “what if something happens? How can we reach you?”
“I’m staying at the Shoenshreider in West Berlin.”
“Berlin!” I cried. “Isn’t it dangerous? My father says the Germans will never give up until they win a war. They are warmongers.”
“It takes two sides to create a war, my girl.”
“And power and greed,” I added, my heart pounding inside my chest. I didn’t want him to go. It was I who felt safer knowing he was there. It was I who worried over him leaving the country. And it was I who despaired at the thought of never seeing him again. “I suppose your fiancée is seeing you off? She paid me a visit a few days ago.”
“Ah.”
I could see this was news to him.
“And what was the nature and purpose of her visit?”
“A clawing claim,” I replied. “On you.”
Tilting back his head, he laughed.
“You might find it funny but I certainly do not.”
“My dearest girl.” He moved toward me and swept me in his arms. “My dearest girl. When are you going to believe those words?”
I lost all my resolve. A buzzing warmth consumed me, and as I slowly rose my eyes to his I saw the truth in his words. He does love me. He does. He does.
I’d never felt so happy in all my life as he kissed me again and again.
“Daphne?” Without waiting, Jeanne had burst into the room. At the sight of the two of us embracing, she recoiled and frowned at me. Why was it always my fault? I thought and rephrased, why was it always the woman’s fault?
Clearly, she did not approve.
It was time to let a little of the truth out.
“Jeanne,” I began, imploring the major for his consent. “I know Mother and Father asked you to chaperone us for our reputations’ sake but what they don’t know and what t
he world doesn’t know is that the major is not truly engaged to Lady Lara. Isn’t that so, darling?”
At the endearment “darling,” he grinned, allowing the silence to further Jeanne’s suspicions. When I scowled at him, however, he quickly squeezed my hand and bowed.
“Yes, it’s true. I can’t say why yet but our engagement will shortly end. Daphne and I are much better suited, don’t you agree?”
She still stared at the two of us as though we’d committed a great sin.
“Lara Fane is a friend of mine,” he explained. “Her father is ill and it is his dearest wish that she and I marry.”
“I see,” Jeanne finally replied. “Is it fair to subject my sister to ridicule, though?”
“No. It’s not fair. Or equitable. That’s why we are keeping our attachment a secret. I will no longer be subjecting you to the burden of chaperone as I am leaving the country. I came back to say good-bye.”
His confession melted her resistance. He had a winsome way with words, delivered with the charm of his character. I almost envied him for it. I had no such charm.
“What do you say, Jeanne? Do you fancy me as a brother-in-law?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered and we both laughed.
“She’s brutally honest,” I warned him. “Angela will be thrilled, but of course we can’t tell her yet.”
“We must ask you to keep our secret, Jeanne. Can we trust you?”
She couldn’t say no to him. He could have asked her to take away his dirty laundry and she would have done it. Holding his hand, I felt myself glowing. This was love. The romantic love I’d often written about but never experienced.
“This calls for a celebration!”
Ellen appeared at the door with a bottle of champagne and glasses.
“Please, no, humor me. It’s a special occasion and you mustn’t blame Daphne, Major. She never breathed a word, I promise.”
At her smile, he agreed to stay the hour. “But only the hour,” he whispered to me, his tone firm, yet gentle.
Half an hour must have passed before Alicia discovered us.
Drawing my hand away from the major’s, I heard her excuse for the interruption, something to do with Charlotte who was having a nap. Her doe-brown eyes missed nothing, and continued to survey us with quiet, unobtrusive contemplation.
The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) Page 12
