02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall

by Margaret Addison

  There was something else too, niggling at the back of her mind. Josephine had been visibly agitated, or at the very least distracted. She had clearly had something on her mind. Rose remembered vividly their walk in the gardens following her arrival at Dareswick Hall. Josephine had said something about the flowers which suggested that she would not be there to see if the gardener had been right in his choice of home grown bulbs over imported ones. And she had become very flustered when Rose had picked her up on it and asked if she would be going away. She had vehemently denied that she would be; with hindsight, perhaps she had protested too much. But Josephine loved Dareswick with all her heart, she had said as much. Would she really give it all up to run away with her father’s chauffeur? Once she had gone there would be no turning back. Rose did not know the baron well but, from what little she had seen of him, he did not strike her as the sort of man to forgive such an act of abandonment. He would cut Josephine off completely, she felt sure. He would disown her and insist that her name never be mentioned in the house, as if she had never been. Rose shivered. Poor Josephine. Was Brimshaw really worth all that?

  Out loud she said slowly: ‘Brimshaw is quite handsome in a pleasant sort of way, but I can’t quite believe Josephine would be so unwise as to lose her head over him.’

  ‘Of course she wouldn’t,’ agreed Hallam. ‘It’s preposterous to even think that she would.’

  ‘Well, in which case,’ said Cedric, sounding less convinced than the other two, ‘where is she? Mrs Hodges says that Josephine has taken some of her clothes with her. Just the simple practical ones that she’d get to wear if she was going off for a life with someone like Brimshaw. She’s left all her evening gowns but taken most of her jewellery. She could pawn that. And, if she only meant Brimshaw to drive her somewhere, why hasn’t he come back yet?’

  No one answered but, as if one, their thoughts went to Lord Sneddon. Only Cedric had seen his body, but their minds still conjured up the vision of a man seated in a chair at the little writing desk, his upper body slouched over the table, his once handsome face half buried in his arms, hidden by his hair which spread out over his features like a fan. And protruding from his back, from a patch crimson with blood, a delicate gold dagger which looked almost too beautiful and slight to have done such an awful deed.

  ‘You don’t think…’ Hallam began asking and then faltered, the idea too awful to put into words.

  ‘I’m sure her disappearance has absolutely nothing to do with Sneddon’s murder, old chap,’ said Cedric, giving Hallam a reassuring pat on the back. ‘Don’t give it another thought. We all know the kind of chap Sneddon was. I don’t like speaking ill of the dead but there must have been loads of people who would have liked to see him out of the way. Someone must have followed him down from London and waited until everyone had retired to bed and then done him in. It was just fortunate that he was still downstairs in the library and they didn’t have to try all the bedrooms looking for him. I say,’ he broke off as a sudden thought struck him, ‘it was awfully convenient for the murderer that Sneddon was downstairs; you don’t think he had arranged to meet someone there, in the library, do you? Pre-arranged it, I mean? Old Crabtree’s a stickler for locking up the place at night, I know, but Sneddon could have let the murderer in by the French windows and then Sneddon could have –.’

  Cedric had broken off at the sight of the door opening. All eyes turned towards it, wondering no doubt whether it was the baron or the policemen and considering that it might not be wise to be caught speculating as to who the murderer was or why Josephine had disappeared. The reality was much worse, for the figure that came into the room was that of Isabella, her face ashen. She still looked very beautiful, Rose thought, but in a frail sort of way, as if she would blow away if a gust of wind should happen to catch her. She’s in shock, Rose thought, and who could blame her? She may have hated Sneddon, he may have been blackmailing her into marrying him, but even so…

  Both men had jumped up at her entrance and were looking rather sheepish, hoping that she had not overheard them discussing Sneddon’s failings. Rather ineffectually they tried to express their condolences and escort Isabella to the sofa. But she would have none of it, and stood firm in the entrance, brushing them away with her hand as if they had been crumbs on the tablecloth. Rose herself had not ventured forward, although she had got up from the sofa. Now she hovered to one side of it feeling awkward. With Josephine gone, she felt that she should have offered to sit with Isabella, but the girl always had such a cool, aloof air about her that Rose had been discouraged from doing so. Besides, when she had spoken earlier with Mrs Hodges, she had been advised that Isabella had said she wanted to be left alone. From the look the housekeeper gave her when she said it, Rose had got the distinct impression that when Isabella said something she meant it, and woe betide anyone who went against her wishes, particularly a servant, or a shop girl, she added to herself, as an afterthought.

  ‘Oh, do sit down, Isabella, it’s been an awful shock for us all, but to you in particular, of course,’ said Cedric, kindly. Would you like a glass of brandy? I really do think you could do with a glass, you look as if you’re about to faint any minute.’

  ‘I’ll have a small glass.’ But she remained standing in the doorway and looked around the room suspiciously. ‘I suppose you’re all glad he’s dead. None of you liked him very much, did you, even you,’ she added looking at Rose. ‘I saw the way you spoke to him at dinner each night, you could hardly bear to look at him, and you were casting daggers at him all the time, Cedric.’ She laughed a shrill little laugh. ‘Ha, a pun I believe, I must be on top form. But whatever did he do at Ashgrove to have made you hate him so much? You used to be best friends with him, didn’t you, Cedric? What very strange tastes men have in friends.’

  ‘Do sit down, Issy, there’s a girl, you’re being hysterical,’ said her brother, looking rather embarrassed.

  ‘Very well I will, if you’re all going to treat me like a child. But first I want to know if it’s true. Has Josephine really eloped with Brimshaw? I realise she’s rather starved of suitable company down here, but I say, the chauffeur! You would have thought she could have done better than that.’

  ‘You needn’t look so pleased or be so beastly,’ Hallam said angrily. ‘It’s preposterous to think she’d do such a thing. I’m sure there’s some innocent explanation for why she’s not here.’

  ‘Are you really sure?’ Isabella asked, coldly. ‘Honestly, you men do tend to put her on a bit of a pedestal. Butter wouldn’t melt and all that. I know I said what I did about Brimshaw, but really I wouldn’t blame her. It must be so very dull being stuck here, no one to talk to most of the time but the servants. Daddy away in town, staying at his club. She must have been very bored.’

  ‘Nonsense, Josephine loves it here at Dareswick, you know she does,’ Hallam replied crossly, but Rose thought she detected a slight hesitation, as if he suddenly did not feel so sure.

  ‘I’m not so certain.’ Isabella made her way over to the vacated sofa and sat on the edge of one side, her glass clutched in her hand. She gulped down its contents in one go and made a face. ‘Arh, I’ve never liked the taste of brandy. But I suppose it’s medicinal.’ She put the empty glass down on an occasional table and looked at them all slowly.

  ‘Josephine came to see me in my room the night I arrived with Hugh. She was in a very strange mood, quite unhappy in herself, not like her at all. And she was quite short with me when I said she loved living here. She asked me how I knew how she felt. And, you know, she was right. I had no idea how she felt, I’ve never really had an idea about what goes on inside her mind. We’re just very different, I suppose. But what I’m really saying is she clearly had something on her mind. She was definitely upset about something because she started crying and I think she said something about there being every need for her to cry, if only I knew. That would fit in with her leaving Dareswick, wouldn’t it? It would be a bit of a wrench for her to leave here, even i
f she was going off to be with the man she loved. And Daddy would never allow her to come back, you know he wouldn’t. He’d disown her for eloping with a servant. He’d feel as if she’d made him into a laughing stock. The news would be all around his club. It would cause a scandal, you know it would.’

  Hallam all of a sudden looked uncomfortable and paced the room for a while before sinking into an armchair. He passed a hand through his hair clearly agitated. Rose was reminded of how very young he was.

  ‘Now that you mention it,’ he confessed, ‘I remember Josephine saying something similar to me before you all came down this weekend. She wasn’t her usual self at all now that I come to think of it. I think she may have been worried about something, only I didn’t see it at the time.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Isabella said rather spitefully. Hallam ignored her and continued.

  ‘She was very interested to hear about who you were bringing down with you, Isabella. Do you think she had an inkling that it might be Sneddon? She went on and on about it, wouldn’t leave me alone. I say,’ Hallam suddenly looked at them all, alarmed. ‘I’ve suddenly remembered something she did say. She said something along the lines of she hoped I would always think of her fondly no matter what happened in the future. And that she never meant to hurt any of us…’ his voice trailed off. ‘So it’s true. She has eloped with Brimshaw!’

  ‘Steady on, old man,’ said Cedric. ‘Perhaps we’re all jumping too readily to conclusions. It was the first time he had spoken for some time and both brother and sister turned to look at him as if seeking reassurance. ‘We’ll know in good time what Josephine’s done. She’s sure to write and tell you. She wouldn’t just vanish off the face of the earth, she’s not that type of girl.’

  Rose had sat quietly during these various exchanges. She did not think it her place to say anything or comment on Josephine’s behaviour. What appeared to her most strange, however, was that everyone seemed far more concerned by Josephine’s disappearance than by Sneddon’s murder. The police, she knew, were unlikely to take that view.

  As if he could read her very thoughts, Cedric continued:

  ‘But I think we’re all worrying about the wrong thing here. I know what I said just now to you Hallam about not giving it another thought. But whether Josephine has, or has not, run off with the chauffeur, to put it rather bluntly, is beside the point. What is far more worrying is that she disappeared on the same night that Sneddon was murdered.’

  There was a few moment’s silence, which was broken by an indignant Isabella.

  ‘Surely you’re not suggesting that my sister had a hand in Hugh’s death? Oh, that’s absolutely ridiculous. She can’t possibly have done. You know that, Cedric, how beastly of you to even suggest it.’ For the first time since her arrival in the garden room, Isabella appeared close to tears.

  ‘There, there, Isabella,’ said Cedric, soothingly, going to sit on the arm of the sofa beside her where he patted her arm reassuringly. ‘Of course I don’t think that Josephine murdered Hugh, none of us who know her would ever think that. But we must be prepared for the fact that the police are bound to think it is a little too much of a coincidence. We will just have to assure them that Josephine had absolutely no motive for wishing Sneddon dead.’

  Cedric raised his head and caught Rose’s eye. She gave him a weak smile and then immediately dropped her gaze to study the carpet. She could not share in Cedric’s optimism, which she thought anyway was a little forced and mostly for the benefit of Isabella and Hallam. It seemed to her that everyone was conveniently forgetting that last year Josephine had been very much in love with Sneddon and that, even if she had now found solace in Brimshaw, she may not have been prepared to accept that Hugh marry her sister. She would surely have felt, and quite rightly in Rose’s opinion, betrayed by both Hugh and Isabella. Who knew what feelings of resentment and possibly even hatred she had kept bottled up inside? At the very least it would have been a considerable shock to discover that her sister was to marry a man she had once had feelings for. If only it was just that.

  For Rose could not help but remember how distraught Josephine had been to find out that Lord Sneddon was blackmailing Isabella into marrying him. Rose remembered too Josephine’s determination that she should be the one to rescue Isabella and put things right. Rose shivered, remembering the sense of foreboding that had engulfed her in the garden. As soon as the words had sprung unbidden from her lips, she had regretted telling Josephine about Sneddon’s antics, had known all along that nothing good could come of it. Josephine no doubt thought that Sneddon had some affection for her still, that she could appeal to his better nature. But Rose knew that Lord Sneddon had not been a man to be trifled with or one to listen to reason. She was sure that, had Josephine approached him before his fit of remorse, he would sooner have laughed in her face rather than relinquish the letters. And how would Josephine have taken that? Rose thought it unlikely that she would readily admit defeat where the future happiness of her younger sister was concerned. No, Rose felt sure that it was far more likely that Josephine would have seen it as her responsibility, her duty even, to free her sister from an awful fate by whatever means she deemed necessary. The question was, did that include murder?

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Right,’ said Deacon, ‘I’ll ask you about the other guests in a minute but before I do I want you to tell me about this Robert fellow. Who exactly is he?’

  ‘The second footman, sir, or at least he was until his lordship dismissed him.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘Friday night, sir, at dinner.’

  ‘Indeed, it seems a strange time to decide to dismiss a servant, in the middle of entertaining guests when you are no doubt rather short-staffed. What had this Robert done to merit such treatment?’

  ‘He spilt some boiling hot soup over Lord Sneddon, sir.’

  ‘Did he indeed?’ Had they not been investigating the man’s murder and had Lane been present, the inspector was sure his sergeant would have been smirking in the corner at such news. As it was, the inspector was more interested in the butler’s obvious discomfort in being forced to disclose such information. ‘Most unfortunate, I give you, but it seems rather harsh of his lordship to dismiss the man for an accident,’ he said, watching Crabtree closely. ‘Or perhaps it was not an accident? Do you think he did it deliberately?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him that.’

  ‘I intend to. Or at least my sergeant will, he’s down with the servants as we speak. I expect he’s talking to young Robert right now.’

  The butler visibly paled, but said nothing. Deacon decided not to push him, confident that Lane would get to the bottom of whatever Crabtree was trying to hide.

  ‘Why is Robert still here if the baron dismissed him? His lordship doesn’t strike me as a man who likes to be defied.’

  ‘No, he isn’t,’ Crabtree agreed. ‘Confiding in you, sir, and not meaning to speak out of turn, his lordship on occasion does have rather a temper and is apt to say things that he doesn’t really mean. Robert supports his mother and little brothers, sir. He needs to keep his position here otherwise they’ll be destitute, particularly if he has no references. I knew his lordship was particularly upset because of who it was he spilt soup over. You know, sir, the heir to a dukedom and the man who’d just asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. I knew that the whole thing would probably blow over in a day or so and that his lordship would then look on things more leniently. Particularly as Lord Sneddon didn’t make much fuss about it.’

  ‘Didn’t he?’ The inspector raised an eyebrow. ‘That doesn’t sound like the Lord Sneddon I’ve met. Just the sort of man to make a song and dance about something like that I’d have thought.’

  ‘Yes, but you see he had an inkling that it was…..’ The butler faltered and then reddened.

  ‘It would be much better to tell me it all, you know, Crabtree. It’s bound to come out in the end, it always does.�
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  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think it’s my place to do so. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my duties now. I need to check on young Doris and the other servants. They’ve all taken it very badly, as you can imagine, a murder in the house. I’ll send Mr Hallam in. He can tell you all you need to know about his lordship’s guests.’

  And before the inspector had a chance to utter a word of protest, Crabtree was gone.

  ‘I've told you, sergeant, I wanted to kill him, believe me I did, but I didn’t do it. Someone got to him first.’ The young footman stared the sergeant straight in the eye as if challenging him to question the sincerity of his words.

  Lane in turn looked at him steadily. That Robert meant what he said about wanting to kill Sneddon he had little doubt but, according to Mrs Gooden, the young man had been a nervous wreck after the incident with the soup. The sergeant wondered then whether the footman had sufficient courage to kill a man in cold blood. Perhaps if Sneddon had provoked him verbally he might have done it. He could certainly picture the man going to see Sneddon in the library after the rest of the house had retired to bed. Likewise he could imagine Sneddon laughing at him, calling him a fool, perhaps saying something derogatory about little Mabel or questioning the young man’s abilities as a suitor. Yes, he could easily see Lord Sneddon doing that. It would have caused him amusement to rile a servant and he would have had no reservations about turning his back on him. The weapon would have been to hand. According to Crabtree and the maids the gold letter opener was always kept on the writing table; Josephine Atherton used it to open her correspondence. So, almost without thinking, Robert could have picked it up and plunged it into Sneddon’s back. It would have been the work of mere moments.