Lord David made a slight bow. “Thank your mama for us, but of course we are an intrusion at this difficult time. We’ve decided to remove to the Ocean House Hotel.”
“Oh, you can’t stay at that stodgy old place,” Cassie protested. “No one who’s anybody stays there these days. Please, Lord David. You can’t desert Mama. Come with me and she’ll tell you herself.”
“She would be polite of course, your mama is such a giving person, but it would not be fair.”
“Oh, yes, it will. Won’t it, Dee?”
Deanna smiled. “But of course.” She saw the sudden glint in Lord David’s eye. It was mere flirtation, but Deanna didn’t welcome it, not anymore.
Lord David turned to Swan. “The rooms have been confirmed at the hotel?”
Swan nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Lord David.
Lord David turned to his sister.
Deanna wondered if Swan really could read people’s thoughts, because he turned away and began taking things out of the half-packed trunk.
Lord David shrugged slightly, a charming acquiescence.
“Let’s go tell Mama the good news,” Cassie said.
Deanna walked behind Cassie and Madeline, wondering what exactly had just happened and which one of them had made the decision to stay.
She pondered the relationship between brother, sister, and servant while she sat at luncheon. Surmised while Elspeth retied her hat. Listened distractedly while Elspeth scolded her for wrinkling the ribbon.
At last she managed to slip away to sketch. She sat on a boulder at the edge of the rocks, but the wind was brisk, and after a few minutes of wrestling with her skirts and clamping down on her paper, she gave up and returned her sketching to her bag.
Deanna stood and looked around for a more protected space. She was several yards from where Daisy had fallen or been pushed to her death. She tried not to look. It seemed a macabre thing to do. Voyeuristic almost.
There had been few items about the deaths in the paper, and Deanna wondered if Charles or Mr. Woodruff had paid to have others withheld. Society thrived on intimate details of the rich. The cottagers were always being examined for any little slipup, any breath of scandal. And they were open to all forms of blackmail. Deanna wondered how much Mr. Woodruff had paid over the years to keep his peccadilloes secret. And she wondered if her own father had done the same.
She shied away from thinking about that possibility. It was enough to put her off getting married. Just look at what Adelaide would face. But Deanna wouldn’t let that happen. She’d have to tell her sister about Madeline and Charles. And if Adelaide chose to ignore Deanna’s warning, then she would have at least tried.
Her eyes drifted back to the rocks where Daisy had died.
There had to be an answer to why first Daisy and then Claire had been killed. Deanna put down her sketchbook, stood, brushed off her skirt, and climbed down until she was near the rocks where Daisy had lain. It looked so innocuous in the sun.
Suddenly, the back of her neck prickled. She brushed at it, thinking it must be a stray hair, but when she looked up, she saw Swan standing on the path above.
Deanna caught her breath. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.
Slowly, he shook his head, then stepped back out of her view, leaving only sunshine. And Deanna wondered if her eyes saw true or whether he had been an apparition.
Either way, she’d lost the desire to study the rocks or even sketch. Throwing caution and decorum to the wind, she began to scramble up to the path.
“Oh, there you are. It’s teatime.” Cassie stood with Madeline and Lord David above her on the lawn. “Dee, it’s absolutely morbid the way you keep coming back to look at this place.”
“I was out sketching, and I . . .” She could not see Swan anywhere. Where had he disappeared to so quickly? “I thought I saw someone, so I came to see.” She smiled up at them. “But I was mistaken.” She finished the climb toward them. Lord David offered his hand for the last step.
They had tea on the veranda and were joined by Vlady Howe, Herbert Stanhope, and two young ladies from their set whom Deanna didn’t know well. Charles joined them a few minutes later, looking harassed and like he hadn’t slept in days. He must be worrying about his father and trying to prepare for the worst, Deanna thought. He took his tea to a chair and sat morosely contemplating his cup.
Mrs. Woodruff even made an appearance. She’d changed into an at-home robe of turquoise sateen, covered in red peonies, a chinoiserie theme she seemed partial to.
“Are you going to be with us long, Lord David?” Herbert asked when the conversation lagged for a moment.
“We will be here for a few more days, and then I have business in Manhattan, and Madeline will visit friends in Saratoga.”
This was the first that Deanna had heard of it. Charles’s head snapped up, and both Cassie and Mrs. Woodruff looked surprised at this news as well.
Lord David didn’t elaborate. “And what about you, Stanhope? Do you stay in Newport for the summer, lazing the warm weather away?” He said it in a joking way, but Herbert colored slightly.
“Until August, then I go abroad.”
“Will your mama and sisters go with you?” Mrs. Woodruff asked.
“No, ma’am. I take myself. I plan to be there some time.”
“You’ll be back for the season of course.”
Herbert smiled. “Perhaps.”
Cassie laughed. “Oh, Herbert, you are so droll. You know you wouldn’t miss the season. Europe has nothing to compare to New York when everyone is in town. Madeline, you and Lord David should stay for it. It’s ever so much fun.” She shot a flirtatious look at Vlady, who lifted his eyebrows and smiled back.
“I’m afraid my sister and I must return to Barbados long before that. I do have a plantation to run.”
“But surely Maddie could stay. She doesn’t have to run the plantation. Charles, support me in this.”
Charles merely shook his head.
Madeline laughed. “I don’t have to run the plantation, but I must take care of my brother. When he’s busy, he’ll forget to sleep or eat if someone’s not there to remind him.”
“My dear sister exaggerates. Fortunately, I have an excellent foreman who keeps labor working smoothly and an estate manager to see to the business. Mainly, I just make sure that they are doing their jobs.”
Deanna half listened to the conversation. She was beginning to feel uneasy. She didn’t know why. It would be such a relief when the Manchesters were gone and the summer went back to normal.
“I suppose you’re expecting us all to go to the theater as planned,” Charles said to his mother.
“Of course. Your father wouldn’t want everyone sitting around moping just because he’s a little under the weather.”
Charles’s expression didn’t change, but Deanna sensed that he knew his father wouldn’t be recovering.
“Very well, mother. I wouldn’t want to disappoint father.” Charles stood and returned his cup to the tea tray. “I’ll see you for dinner. I have business to attend to.”
“Poor Charles,” Mrs. Woodruff said. “He feels the weight of his responsibility.”
They all murmured something. But what could they really say?
At least they would be going to the theater. There would be no need for conversation outside of the common banalities of discussing the play.
Maybe it would keep Deanna’s mind off Joe and worrying about what he was doing and when he would return.
But now she had to go upstairs and tell Elspeth that she would be staying at the house while Deanna was out, and to insist that she spend the evening until their return downstairs in the company of the other servants.
The play was well written, the actors admirable, the plot engaging, and yet none of the Woodruff party seemed to be paying much attention.
Deanna kept thinking about the night before—Mr. Woodruff’s wild entrance and his look of madness when Madeline stepped in to stop him. Charles’s race back on his friend’s yacht. Lord David being outwitted by the ailing man and having to walk from the wharf.
Now, there was a story for the stage. Except what would the ending be? Mr. Woodruff lying insensible. The Manchesters intending to leave. And who could blame them? Deanna would be inclined to leave, too, if she could. But Cassie and Mrs. Woodruff needed her support, if only as a sympathetic ear. And even though Mrs. Woodruff put on a brave front by sending them all to the theater, Deanna could see the strain on her face and in her voice. And Deanna knew that, when they returned, Mrs. Woodruff would be sitting by her husband’s bedside.
Deanna was so lost in thought that she started when the final curtain came down and the audience broke into applause. Charles was already standing before the curtain calls were finished. And the others quickly collected wraps and purses and hats, and were hurrying through the crowded lobby, where people were chatting about the play or stopping for refreshment, making plans for supper or when to meet at the yacht races. People at their leisure.
But not the Woodruff party. Deanna was as anxious as Charles to get back. She was worried about Elspeth being left by herself. She’d said she would spend the time with the other members of the Woodruff staff, but Deanna wouldn’t feel relieved until she saw her maid, safe and unhurt.
That was the state of her mind. And there was nothing she could do about it. They’d brought the family’s closed carriage so that the five of them could travel together. No one talked or even fidgeted, including Deanna, so intent were they on their own thoughts.
Neville answered the door almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for them. His face was more pallid and expressionless than usual. Deanna prayed Mr. Woodruff hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.
“I think I’ll go up to see my father,” Charles said as soon as he stepped into the house.
“I think the rest of us should all go to bed,” Lord David said. “It’s been a very eventful few days.” And indeed, he looked exhausted.
Charles started for the stairs before the rest of them, but Neville called him back. “Sir, if I might have a word.”
A sense of dread stilled Deanna steps.
Charles frowned. “Now, Neville?”
“If you please, sir.”
“Yes, well, all right.”
He went toward the library, and the butler followed. Lord David escorted Deanna, Cassie, and Madeline up the stairs.
Deanna said a quick good night, squeezed Cassie’s hand, and went into her room.
“Elspeth? Are you here?”
She was about to call again when Elspeth stepped out of the dressing room. Deanna froze with her hand on the bell.
The maid’s hair was pulled from its bun. Her apron was torn and her face was white and stricken.
“Elspeth? What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” Deanna rushed toward the girl but stopped several feet from her and reeled back. “Good Lord. What is that smell?”
“It’s me, miss. Something awful’s happened.” And Elspeth burst into tears.
Trying to breathe shallowly, Deanna moved toward her. The smell was overpowering now and seemed to be coming from Elspeth’s clothes.
“No, miss, stay back. It’s rum . . . among other things.”
Deanna sniffed, gulped. “You haven’t been drinking?”
For the briefest moment, Elspeth looked outraged, which is what Deanna had hoped for. It only lasted a second, then Elspeth sobbed uncontrollably.
“Did someone attack you?”
Elspeth shook her head.
“And you’re not hurt?”
Another shake of her head.
“Then let’s get you out of that dress and you can tell me all about it.”
Deanna marched her back to the dressing room, turned her around, and untied her apron and slipped it over Elspeth’s head. Looked at it, then gingerly bundled it up and threw it to the farthest corner.
But when she tried to unbutton Elspeth’s collar, the maid rebelled. “I don’t have anything to change into.”
“We’ll send for your things later, but for now, get out of that dress.”
Elspeth shook her head.
“Now.”
Reluctantly Elspeth undid the buttons of her dress while Deanna rummaged in the wardrobe. She found a simple cotton exercise dress and brought it out.
As Elspeth let her uniform fall, modestly covering her camisole with her hands, Deanna slipped it over her head.
“Oh, miss—”
“Don’t argue,” Deanna said in her strictest voice. It came nowhere near her mother’s, but it worked. Elspeth turned around and let Deanna button up the dress.
The hem dragged along the floor, and Elspeth had to grab the skirt with both hands to keep from tripping over it, but it would have to do.
Deanna led her into the bedroom and shut the door behind them. Then she sat Elspeth down in the slipper chair and pulled up the dressing bench.
“It was the voodoo man. He—I . . .”
“Go on.”
“I was down with the others, but it was boring and I thought I’d go get my book from my room. The Cad Metti one.”
Deanna nodded. Cad Metti was Elspeth’s favorite detective. Streetwise and working class, she was a master of disguise, and she could even outsmart her boss. Elspeth’s kind of heroine.
“So I did. And I was coming out of my room when I heard a moan coming from down the hall, where the men servants live. And that voodoo man, he comes staggering down the hall. I was too scared to move. I thought I was a goner.
“When he gets right up to me, he says, ‘Poison,’ and falls down dead at my feet.”
“Swan’s dead?” Deanna exclaimed.
“Dead drunk. Leastways, that’s what I thought at first. So I’m sorry to say I gave him a little kick. Just to see if he was alive. Then I got to worrying if it really was poison, so I got him turned over and he didn’t look like no drunk man I ever saw. Turning all gray like.
“I called for help. But I was afraid to wait, ’cause he was looking worse and worse, so I stuck my fingers down his throat and got him to get it all back up until he was just about empty. That’s why my dress is so smelly.”
Deanna shivered. “I see.”
“By that time, Mr. Neville came, then went off to call the police like I told him to do . . .” Elspeth stopped to give Deanna a little smile. “The voodoo man was getting some color back, but he still didn’t wake up. Now I’m thinking something don’t seem right, so I leave him lying there and tell one of the fellas to look after him. They didn’t want to, chicken-hearted so-and-so’s. And I went into the men’s hall—might get into trouble over that.”
“Not to worry,” Deanna assured her.
“There was a rum bottle on his table. But then I see that something’s on the floor. It’s a piece of paper. So I picked it up. It’s a note.”
“What did it say?”
Elspeth pulled up her skirt. “I thought I’d better keep it safe, so I put it in my knickers pocket.” Holding it by the edge, she pulled out a rectangle of cheap paper. “Just hold it like this, miss, just in case the police have one of them fingerprinting machines.”
Deanna doubted it, but she took the paper by the edge and read the crooked printing there.
I killed those girls. I am bad man. I must die.
Deanna looked up.
Elspeth nodded. “I’m thinking that something doesn’t seem right. A man poisons himself and then stumbles down the hall for help?”
“Maybe he changed his mind.”
“Hmmph. Somebody that big oughta not succumb to fear at a time like that.”
“Did you show this to the pol
ice?”
“No. I wasn’t taking any chances of some flat-footed policeman treading all over it. Or some maid thinking it was trash and throwing it out. I was going to show it to Sergeant Hennessey when he came.”
“Good thinking,” Deanna said. “Did you show it to Will?”
“By the time he came and they took the voodoo man away and Will had questioned everybody, you all had returned from the theater and I had to go. He told me to wait because he wanted to talk to me. And he told me not to say a word about anything that happened. So I figured I’d tell him later. But I did see the police taking the bottle away, so maybe the sergeant suspects something, too.
“What do you think, miss? Do you think that the voodoo man wrote that note and killed those girls? ’Cause I’m thinking something don’t smell right, and it ain’t just me.”
Chapter
25
It was another hour before a maid tapped on Deanna’s door to say the police had requested to talk to Elspeth. “I told him you’d likely be in bed, but he insisted. Mr. Neville is down there with him, but he told me not to wake up the missus.”
“That’s exactly the way it should be. We’ll be glad to come down.” Deanna turned to Elspeth. “Now, aren’t you glad I convinced you to change clothes?”
“Yes, miss. Though I can smell the liquor still.”
“It’s just in your mind.”
“If you say so.” Elspeth patted the pocket that now held the suicide note.
They went downstairs to the little study where Neville had placed the sergeant to wait.
“I thought you would be more comfortable here, miss,” Neville said.
“Yes, thank you.” Deanna nodded slightly, which was what her mother did when she was dismissing someone. She hoped it would work on Neville.
Neville didn’t move. “Wouldn’t you rather I stayed, miss?”
“No thank you, Neville. You go on to bed. I’ll let Mr. Hennessey out when we’re finished.”
“Thank you, miss, but I’ll be waiting in the hall to accompany the sergeant to the door.” He bowed and left the room.
A Gilded Grave Page 30
