Murder on the Cliffs

by Joanna Challis

  “Oh.”

  At that moment Lord David entered the room, and I moved toward the dinner table. Following suit, the major remarked upon the fine linen.

  “Fine linen, sir?” I asked incredulously.

  “David darling, Major Browning is visiting the area,” Lady Hartley interrupted for introductions.

  The men shook hands, Lord David wary, the major eager.

  “The historical allure brought me here,” the major teased to ease Lord David’s mistrust. “The abbey treasure is a great one to guard, my lord.”

  Lord David did not register the joke.

  “No, I come down every year to visit my uncle.”

  “Then you should have visited us before. Indeed, I had no idea someone of your quality frequented Windemere. Who is your uncle?”

  “A lonely old fisherman. He lives in a . . . well, I’d say a hut on a hill not far from Castle Mor.”

  “Interesting,” Lady Hartley beamed, and Lianne beamed with her. “You are always very welcome at Padthaway, Major.”

  His eyes shimmered toward me. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Reaching for my seat, I coughed, quickly reaching for my water glass. The major immediately expressed concern. I didn’t want him acting so friendly to me in the presence of Lord David. I looked up at Lord David. He lifted a brow in query.

  “I met the Major at Ewe’s,” I said. “Miss Perony, Major, have you seen her lately? You got along so well at Ewe’s, I thought . . .”

  “Miss Perony!” Lianne giggled. “She’s old and ugly.”

  “Not ugly, plain,” her mother corrected, smiling sweetly and preening for the major.

  I nearly choked on my food. Lady Hartley left the major in no doubt of her interest in him. A replacement for Soames, I wondered?

  The major stayed for afternoon tea, too.

  “Intriguing courtyard,” he remarked, as Lady Hartley linked her arm through his to show him the room. “I am very curious about those Chinese vases. . . .”

  Chinese vases! No, he was curious, too curious, about this entire case. Did he have a professional interest in it? Or was his interest purely ordinary, like Ewe Sinclaire and the rest of us?

  Lianne rushed to escort the major to the Chinese vases, pointing out other various items and their history amongst smiles and the occasional flirtatious giggles. Sickened by the scene, I couldn’t wait for the whole affair to end.

  It did, at the major’s leisure I might add. He offered to drive me home and I had no choice but to go with him as I failed to think of an excuse quick enough. Walking home wasn’t an option for it was raining and David retained his polite coolness in his farewells. Lady Hartley had been extremely warm, pressing the major’s hand and inviting both of us for dinner the next evening, and Lianne curtsied and smiled.

  “She’s still waving,” the major said as we motored down the drive.

  I glanced back. “Why did you go there? You’re no friend to them.”

  “Nor are you, submitting a private diary as evidence.”

  My mouth went agape. “How do you know about it? Why does Sir Edward talk to you and not me?”

  “Because I called upon him with the results to the perfume puffer. He’s running another test now . . . to be sure, but one thing you can be sure of, events are going to unfold rather rapidly now.”

  I sat in the car, frozen. I felt cold and guilty. I’d betrayed my friends and I felt especially guilty after Lord David and I kissed in the secret garden. “Events? Because of the puffer? What do you mean?”

  Opening the door for me, he grinned. “You will see. No umbrella. You better run. I will pick you up tomorrow at six.”

  “She’ll have her eye on him,” Ewe predicted the next day. “Lady Hartley. Swappin’ the peacock for the eagle.”

  “Who’s the peacock?”

  “Your Mr. Soames ye fancy is related in some way to Vicky.”

  Working outside in the garden was just the break I needed.

  Ewe paused. “Ye never know. Ye may be right. Now I think of it, his face did look rather pinched at the funeral.” She paused to instruct me on how to trim one of her precious hedges. “So the major’s involved himself, too, has he? You watch. There’ll be an arrest soon. Oh, how I wish I’d seen that diary! Must have been ripe with secrets.”

  “I hate to disappoint you but it wasn’t what I expected. Those London visits . . . who could she be going to see?”

  “It’s Lady Hartley who did it,” Ewe proclaimed, her eyes squinting into the distance. “Is that Connan Bastion I see on his bicycle?”

  I peered into the distance. “I think it is.” I got up quickly to brush my skirt. “I’ll go see him.”

  “You’d better tell him about the diary,” Ewe advised.

  “I didn’t want to say anything at first,” I started, explaining how the diary and the perfume puffer came into my hands as he approached. “Sir Edward has them now and the major says there’ll be an arrest soon.”

  Relief, grateful relief, washed over his face. “Ma will be pleased. Is it . . . will they do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Arrest the Hartleys. I mean, they are the rich that get away with everythin’.”

  “Not murdering your sister.” I pressed his hand.

  He still did not believe me. “They’ll pay the judge off. They’ll get away with it.”

  “No, they won’t, Connan. They can pay to have the best lawyer, but if the evidence is enough, your sister’s killer will be brought to justice.”

  His violet eyes studied my face. “Miss Daphne, this is all your doin’. It’d never’ve happened if you hadn’t come here.”

  I suppose it might not have, I congratulated myself. The beads still remained a mystery, though, so I asked Connan if he knew an MSR. He said no, but he had remembered something about the London visits. “She had trouble with a bloke. She said she were scared of him. Tryin’ to bribe her. She was worried about losin’ Lord David.” Hitting his head with his fist, he breathed out a long grieving sigh. “And I’m the idiot! Puttin’ pressure on her to pay off me debts when she—”

  “Had someone else to contend with? Someone sinister?”

  “Yeah. S’pose that’s it.”

  “Do you know where she went? Or where she met this person? Did she mention a name at all? Think, Connan. Think back to every word she said. She must have been upset.”

  “She were angry at me . . . and at him. No, she were angry at all of us, for not believin’ her,” he said. “Don’t know what she meant by that.”

  “I think I do, but the London visits are important.”

  “I might be wrong,” he said eventually, “but I think she might of said somethin’ like Crow or Crowleys through it all.

  “Thank you, Connan.”

  He cycled away and I resumed trimming the hedge. The action of cutting and snipping reminded me of Mrs. Trehearn. “The poison must have been in the house,” I said to Ewe. “Mrs. Trehearn is lying to protect Lady Hartley. I wonder if Sir Edward now suspects her. . . .”

  “Daphne!”

  Lianne leaned over the fence. “I’ve come to get you.”

  “Now? For dinner? It’s too early and the major’s picking me up.”

  “But Mummy and I’ve got a surprise for you. The car’s here now. Can she come now, Mrs. Ewe?”

  Arching her brows, Ewe lifted her arms. “Ain’t up to me, petal.”

  “Oh, please, Daphne, please. Mother expects you.”

  But I did not live under Lady Hartley’s dominion, did I? For Li-anne’s sake, I went, though it was against my better judgment. I suspected Lianne’s motives were vested in her feelings for the major.

  My suspicions increased when her mischievous smile continued to Lady Hartley’s room. Pacing along the open windows in her splendid room, her beribboned robe trailing behind her, she looked magnificent. A magnificent murderess, cool and unaffected by Victoria’s brief intrusion into her world.

  “Ah! I have a present for both
of you. For to night’s gala, ladies, we must look our best. It appears Victoria had ordered two dresses as part of her wedding trousseau and instead of sending them back to the dressmaker, I decided to keep them. Jenny will make the appropriate adjustments— she can sew, you know.”

  I opened my mouth, horrified at the idea of wearing something of Victoria’s. “Lady Florence, it’s very kind of you, but I must—”

  “No, you shall not, Daphne. I insist upon it, and if you are worried about my son, you needn’t be. He knew nothing about these dresses and I thought the lavender would suit you very well.”

  Lavender. Should I wear Victoria’s lavender beads, too, my lady? I thought to ask.

  “Lianne . . . for you, the green.” Tossing the dress to her daughter, she added, “See that Jenny adds a piece of lace to the top. It’s far too low for a girl of your age.”

  The lavender dress, still wrapped in tissue paper, lay on my lap. Having no choice but to open it now, I did so, loving the feel of the soft satin.

  “It shimmers like the moon,” Lady Hartley grinned, “and you may borrow my amethyst set for the night.” Raiding her dresser, she placed the box on my lap, too. “Now, off to Jenny, both of you.”

  Thus dismissed, Lianne and I carried our respective treasures to Jenny. “How do you feel about it?” I asked Lianne on the way.

  “Weird” was her reply.

  “Me, too. I don’t think I can—”

  “She’ll be angry if you don’t. Best we please Mother.”

  So we humored her ladyship, letting Jenny’s deft fingers pin and make the needed adjustments. Victoria had a greater bust line than I; I had a slimmer waist, and the dress was far too long. Funny, I hadn’t thought of her as tall when I saw her lying there on the beach.

  “Don’t like it,” Jenny muttered again. “ Wearin’ the dead ’s clothes. No good.”

  “But they weren’t actually hers yet,” Lianne reminded for the fifth time. “None of us like it. Though”— she twirled in front of the mirror—“I do feel pretty in the green.”

  “It brings out ye pretty eyes,” Jenny softened. “What’re we goin’ to do with that hair, though?” Clicking her tongue, she considered. “I think ye old enough to wear it up. Maybe Miss Daphne can help.”

  “Oh, don’t keep calling me Miss Daphne,” I said, tapping Jenny’s shoulders. “You make me feel positively old.”

  It was a cheery afternoon, playing dress- up in Jenny’s room, and she apologized for being “strange about the garden” the day before.

  “It’s all right, Jenny.” I pressed her hand. “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “I just thought he might have told me, that’s all. Us having so many memories in that garden. Or Lee Lee.”

  “We didn’t want to upset you,” Lianne soothed as Annie and Betsy arrived to audition our final appearance.

  Though they clapped their hands and said, “Oh, ye both look a beauty!” I still felt uncomfortable and annoyed with Lianne and Lady Hartley for disrupting my plan to drive with the major. I dreaded to think what he’d make of all this, and I had so many questions I’d hoped to ask him on the way.

  Lianne twirled around, no doubt dreaming of the major. “Shall we go down now?”

  “We’ll watch ye go,” Jenny smiled, proud.

  Halfway down the stairs, adopting the gait of a royal princess under the amused eye of Jenny, Betsy, and Annie, Lianne paused.

  “I forgot something. I’ll meet you later.”

  We had decided to go down early to watch the major’s arrival from the drawing room. Not wanting to sit lest I crinkle my dress, wanting to make a stunning impression for both David and the major’s eyes, I decided to visit the Beneficent Bride.

  The painting glowed there in the portrait gallery, illuminated against the darkened wall, the dim evening lights scarcely touching her face. A serene face, eyes dark, full of passionate unexplained mystery, her dainty hand coiled around the swing rope.

  “Unforgettable, isn’t she?”

  The low murmur startled me.

  Lord David approached from the other end of the corridor, a shadowy smile on his lips. “You were so intent. I was loath to disturb you.”

  My heart raced. It had a terrible habit of doing so whenever he entered a room.

  “Is Lianne with you?”

  “No,” I swallowed, my heightened senses registering his slow advance, remembering how his arms felt around me, his lips on mine.

  He laughed. “So you’ve managed to escape her. An amazing feat.”

  Leaning against the paneling, I permitted his gaze to make an assessment of my dress, praying he’d never learn the origin of it.

  “New?”

  I nodded.

  He stepped back to admire. “The cut is perfect . . . and I see Mother loaned you her amethysts.”

  “Yes!” I smiled, my hand rising to caress the stones. “They’re exquisite.”

  “No, you are exquisite.”

  “My lord!”

  Now I had truly offended him.

  “I understand. You wish to remove yourself from me because you suspect me.”

  “No, we are friends—”

  “Friends,” he echoed with distaste.

  “More than friends,” I amended, feeling the heat rise to my face. “That’s why we must talk about her . . . Victoria.”

  He nodded, instantly cold. “What do you want to know?”

  Taking a deep breath, I said what I’d planned to say next time we were alone. “I’m sorry about Victoria. I can imagine how difficult it must be losing the one you love. The love of your life. But I must know, what happened between the two of you?”

  Staring ahead, the line of his jaw tensing, Lord David nodded. “Did I love her? I don’t know if I know what true love is. I was enchanted by her.” A low chuckle escaped his lips. “She used to call herself a ‘changeling.’ I suppose that’s what she was . . . changeable.”

  I remained silent, thinking of her diary. I didn’t find her changeable, but I suppose she may have presented herself to others differently.

  “Do you want to know what happened that night?”

  Without waiting for my reply, he went on, the tone of his voice tinged with a bitter sadness. “It started out a lighthearted affair between us, neither serious, or at least that’s what I assumed. I saw her working at a club in London. My friends pointed her out and, jokingly, I asked her out on a date. She accepted and we did a few things together— films, shows, clubs, that sort of thing.

  “I’d drive her home on the weekends. This became our pattern for a while, a pleasant dalliance we both enjoyed.”

  Afraid to turn my head to examine his reflective profile, I continued to stare at the painting, my mind painting the picture of their romance— the color, the gaiety, the excitement. “When did it change?”

  “When she showed up here. She thought it a great joke . . . working in the kitchen. I didn’t.”

  “How did she get the job?”

  “Soames hired her. They knew each other from school or something. The two shared an odd history. I don’t think he liked Victoria being here either.”

  “Or with you,” I murmured. “He might have been in love with her.”

  I saw the thought had occurred to him.

  “She fell pregnant?”

  “Yes.” He looked away, his face expressionless. “She said the child was mine. I believed her— now, I’m not so sure. I wanted to believe her but I kept hearing things . . . rumors. She begged me not to listen. She confessed she ‘had a past’ but that was done with and all that mattered to her was me and the child.”

  I listened to all this sadness and uncertainty, wishing I knew what to say. “You did the honorable thing. You were going to marry her.”

  “Yes, I was. The night she,” he paused, “the night she disappeared, we had an argument before dinner. I made her cry. I felt wretched about it, but was glad we’d had it out. I still loved her, I still wanted to marry her, but at
dinner she continued to persecute me by bringing up how distressing it was to have one’s reputation scarred by malice. She meant to make a point: to me, to my mother. My mother and she clashed but Victoria was not herself that night. I put it down to drink, wedding jitters, the pregnancy, and our row. I suggested she go to bed. She got up and threw her glass of wine over me. I ran after her but she locked her door and refused to see me. I didn’t see her until the next morning . . . when they found her . . .”

  When I found her, Lianne and I, that fateful day.

  Hearing noise down the hall, I paused to briefly touch his face. “I know you didn’t kill her, David. Nor did she kill herself.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “My mother . . .” He looked up, haunted, uncertain. “I made the mistake of discussing my doubts about the child with her. She’d heard tales from other ears, too. Soames, I suspect.”

  “What was Soames to Victoria? Do you know?”

  “She called him her ‘cousin’ once. Mother was jealous, jealous of my bride, the woman she didn’t approve of, stealing her place. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. If I’d kept my mouth shut she might not have taken the action she did. Even now, she won’t admit to it. Prove it, she says, and names Soames as the culprit because Victoria jilted him. Soames put the ricin in her dinner that night . . .”

  The noise persisted.

  He peered over my shoulder. “That will be Trehearn searching for us. We had best go.”

  They were all assembled in the dining room, each face registering surprise when David and I arrived together. Immediately detaching myself from his arm, I went to stand by Lianne.

  The major chatted with Lady Hartley and I noticed her eyes kept flickering to the door, as though she expected— or feared— someone unpleasant to enter. To me, the major merely inclined his head, his quick eyes scanning my outfit.

  To my surprise, the evening turned out quite enjoyable, just the five of us, and repairing to the courtyard for tea and cake, Lady Hartley ordered more bottles of champagne.

  “What are we celebrating, my lady?” the major asked, jovial, not showing the least surprise when Mrs. Trehearn crept up to whisper in her ladyship’s ear.