02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall

by Margaret Addison

  ‘What was it?’ Cedric stopped walking and was looking at her intently.

  ‘I know it sounds silly, given the circumstances, and perhaps I was just imagining it. But after Josephine had got over the initial shock of seeing Sneddon again I could have sworn that she looked relieved.’

  ‘Relieved?’ Cedric sounded incredulous.

  ‘Yes, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I’m sure for a moment she looked very relieved. Perhaps she was afraid that Isabella was bringing someone else down with her. And then almost immediately she looked worried again, but I think that was more to do with being concerned about how Hallam might react than anything else.’ They carried on with their stroll. ‘You know, Cedric, I don’t think Josephine was nearly as fond of Sneddon as everyone’s made out. Yes, I think she was flattered by his attentions, but nothing more. Why, she said almost as much to me on Saturday morning. In fact I have been rather wondering whether it might not have been the other way around.’

  ‘You mean Sneddon was more fond of her than she was of him? Do you think, then, that she was the one to give him the brush off?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. It would help explain why he went and had a dalliance with that unfortunate maid. He was put out when his advances were rejected, unrequited love and all that. That’s why, I think, Sneddon felt so badly about the maid when he found out what had happened to her. He knew he had used her very ill. But it also explains something else he said to me on Saturday night, when he was being all melancholy in the library.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘He talked about hurting the people he cared for and only realising how very much he cared for them when it was too late. He rather dismissed Isabella and your sister, Lavinia, I’m afraid as being able to look after themselves. I thought at the time he was just talking about the maid but he definitely said them, so I think he was also referring to Josephine.’

  ‘But, in which case, it could just as easily have meant that he had let Josephine down and now regretted it. It was the sort of thing he’d do, after all.’

  ‘It could, yes, but I don’t think so. I mean, I think he let her down to the extent that she realised the sort of fellow he was before it was too late. But I still think she broke it off. Either way, I don’t think Josephine ever held deep feelings for him.’

  ‘Then why did everyone think she did? Hallam said she became quite withdrawn after the business with Sneddon.’

  ‘I think she felt guilty about the maid. I think she felt that had she not spurned Sneddon’s advances he wouldn’t have got the maid into trouble. But there’s something else.’ Rose stopped and looked at Cedric earnestly. ‘I think she deliberately let everyone think that she had been fonder of Lord Sneddon than she had been and that he had let her down and not the other way around.’

  ‘Why on earth would she do that? She knew how upset Hallam was about it all. I can’t believe she’d be so unkind as to distress him unnecessarily.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have wanted to, of course, but I think she felt she had to. You see, Cedric, I think she had a secret of her own to hide and that it suited her purposes very well for people to think she was in love with Lord Sneddon.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because then they wouldn’t think she was in love with someone else.’

  Chapter Thirty-two

  ‘You realise, sir,’ said Lane pondering, ‘that we’ve never really thought about the Earl of Belvedere as a possible suspect, have we? And yet he could easily be one, couldn’t he? I mean, we could put together a decent motive, couldn’t we, if we had to? Sneddon could have been blackmailing him over revealing what really happened at Ashgrove. Or perhaps Sneddon found out that he had got a girl into trouble and threatened to tell Miss Simpson.’

  ‘Or he decided to kill Sneddon to protect the Athertons,’ suggested Deacon. ‘He definitely seemed a bit worried about the Hallam boy to me. It’s just the sort of misguided act he might do out of a sense of chivalry. Having said that, I can’t see him stabbing Sneddon in the back in cold blood, can you? As he said when we suggested to him that Hallam Atherton might have murdered Sneddon, it wasn’t a very sporting way to kill him. The man’s not a coward. He’d have confronted Sneddon face to face.’

  ‘Even so, sir, he might easily have had a motive.’

  ‘Quite right. We won’t discount him quite yet.’

  ‘Someone else? You mean she was in love with that chauffeur fellow all along?’ Cedric looked appalled. ‘So they really were running away together. Goodness, I hope the baron never finds out, he’d be absolutely furious. Still, the girl obviously came to her senses before it was too late. They must have had second thoughts about the whole escapade.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think Josephine has ever been in love with Brimshaw. I think she is in love with someone else.’

  ‘Oh, crikey.’ Cedric, Rose noticed, had gone rather pink. ‘I suppose I ought to tell you, Rose, that there was a time, a good few years ago now, when Josephine and I were rather fond of each other. To be honest, I thought more of her as a sister than anything else. She was a jolly lot easier to get along with than Lavinia, I can tell you, and she found Isabella a little trying. The Athertons are old family friends, as I told you before, and we spent a great deal of time together. I’m just wondering whether she might have thought about me in a somewhat more romantic light. I’m not saying I’m anything to write home about, but she doesn’t get to meet very many eligible young men stuck out here in the sticks, so it’s just possible that –.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, darling,’ laughed Rose, ‘but I’m afraid that I don’t think it’s you she’s in love with.’

  ‘Well that’s a relief,’ said Cedric, with feeling, ‘especially as –.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose quickly, going crimson. ‘But I do think there is someone, or was someone. Oh, it’s hard to know for sure with Josephine. But she was definitely intending to go away never to return to Dareswick, I’m sure of it, and I can only think that an unsuitable match is the only explanation. According to the maid who brought me my cup of tea this morning, Josephine took her everyday clothes together with her jewellery box. They’ve all been unpacked now of course. The poor girl was grumbling about the extra work. But anyway, that proves at the very least that Josephine was going to be living a different sort of life to the one she was used to. She had no need for fancy gowns and the like and obviously took her jewellery with her so that she could pawn or sell pieces when she needed to.’

  ‘But she came back?’

  ‘Yes, things obviously did not turn out as she had hoped they would. And what’s more, I don’t think she intended to leave here this weekend, not with all her family at home and guests as well. No, I think she was intending to slip away quietly. Something forced her to go when she did. I wonder what it was.’

  ‘Hello, you two, what are you doing hiding away here? Hope I’m not intruding and all that but I’m sick and tired of being stuck in the house all day. Thought I’d come out for a bit of fresh air.’ Hallam’s sudden appearance made both of them jump. Rose wondered how much of their conversation he had heard. He must have heard them talking about Josephine. She felt her cheeks going red just thinking about it. Hallam must have noticed.

  ‘Sorry, I am intruding on you two lovebirds, aren’t I? I say, this hasn’t been much of a weekend for you, has it?’

  ‘It hasn’t been much of a weekend for anyone, old man,’ said Cedric, sympathetically.

  ‘No it hasn’t. Damn Sneddon, why did he have to get himself killed here? Why couldn’t he have got himself murdered in London? Oh, I know I sound heartily callous and all that, but it’s not as if any of us liked him, is it? It’s terribly hard to be sad when one couldn’t stand the man. The servants didn’t think too much of his valet either, from what Sidney told me. Old Crabtree didn’t trust him with the silver and they generally seem to have thought that he was up to no good.’

  ‘Even so,’
said Cedric, ‘It’s a jolly rum old thing to have happened.’

  Cedric, Rose thought, looked taken aback and slightly appalled at the blasé way in which the young man was treating the murders. Rose herself thought that it was a coping mechanism. But then again, was it? Cedric knew Hallam better than she did and he was visibly disturbed by what he had just heard the boy say. And she remembered how she had put together quite a case in her head for how the boy might have been the murderer, might in a fit of anger have killed Sneddon to protect his sisters, as he would have seen it. Of course, it all boiled down to that scar of Josephine’s, she thought. The evidence of a vicious, impulsive streak. It would have taken a great deal of force and anger to cause such a wound, especially considering it had been done by a child. She remembered how Josephine had spoken about it, how embarrassed and ashamed she had been, particularly on behalf of her brother.

  She remembered the very words Josephine had said as she tried to dismiss the event as insignificant, as childish high spirits that had got out of hand. She remembered… that was it! She remembered suddenly what Josephine had actually said and not what she had thought she meant because, of course, they were two completely different things! Oh how stupid she had been. It was significant, she knew it was. And in that moment, as she stopped walking abruptly, much to the surprise of both Cedric and Hallam who almost walked into her, she knew she was going to solve this case because she had suddenly recognised the first clue. She had something to latch on to.

  It all focused around Josephine, Rose felt sure now. Sneddon and his servant were only indirectly involved. If she concentrated her efforts on finding out what Josephine was hiding then she would discover the truth and the identity of the person who had carried out the murders, she was sure of it. She sighed. She was sitting in a chair in the billiard room, appearing outwardly to the casual observer to be engrossed in her copy of the Woman’s Weekly magazine. Inwardly, however, her mind was whirring. Oh, how she wished Cedric wasn’t being so over protective as to insist that she not be out of his sight for a moment. And so, while she was trying to concentrate on working everything out, she was constantly being put off by the noise of one or other of Cedric or Hallam either hitting the cue balls or exclaiming when they missed a shot.

  But how wonderful that Cedric should be so concerned about her safety. The knowledge gave her hope that, after this was all over there was still the possibility of a future together, there was still ….. But no, she must not think about that now. Her priority was to find out the murderer before he or she struck again. She shivered. This murderer was particularly dangerous, she thought. In the claustrophobic, stifling air in the house she could feel it. He would think nothing of killing again. Perhaps he had even developed a taste for death, after all one read of such things.

  As far as she was concerned everything had happened on the Saturday. Indeed, so much had happened yesterday that it was hard to believe that today was only Sunday. And of course there had even been another murder. Now how had Saturday started ….? She had had breakfast and arranged to meet Josephine in the gardens later so that she might fill her in on Sneddon’s exploits with the maid which had had such tragic consequences. Then of course there had been the business in the library. But no, something else had happened before then, something she had completely forgotten about.

  She looked up. Cedric and Hallam appeared engrossed in their game of billiards. She wondered if they would notice if she slipped out of the room for a moment. She must find Crabtree. She must ask him. She looked around desperately, trying to think up an excuse that would enable her to leave without them insisting on following her.

  It seemed then, just as she was quite sure that she could not think of anything, that her very wish to see the butler had been so strong as to draw him to her, as if she had summoned him by ringing the bell. For suddenly he was standing before her informing them that, due to the interviews having run on, it was the master’s intention that a late luncheon-cum-early afternoon tea be taken in the dining room in half an hour or so. Crabtree turned as if about to go but before he could vacate the room she was upon him. Part of her even was desperate enough to want to tug at his sleeve to get his attention.

  ‘Crabtree, Mr Crabtree, please. May I have a quick word with you before you go?’

  ‘Of course, miss, how may I be of service?’ If he was surprised by the eagerness in her voice, he did not show it.

  ‘Yesterday morning Miss Josephine was quite anxious about a letter that she was expecting but which hadn’t come. I believe she asked you to send a boy over to the post office to check that it had not been mislaid?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Did he find it there? Did he have any luck?’

  ‘No, miss. The letter was not at the post office.’

  ‘Had she been waiting on the letter long?’

  ‘Yes, miss. She was always sure it would arrive the next day, but it never did.’ Rose noticed that he was beginning to eye her rather curiously. Likewise, when she looked up she found that both Cedric and Hallam were interested to know why she had detained the butler.

  ‘You must think this awfully strange, all my questions about Miss Josephine’s letter I mean,’ she said quickly, lowering her voice slightly to avoid being overheard. ‘It’s just that she mentioned that she was awaiting a letter about some fancy dress outfit she had ordered. She recommended the place to me and I’m awfully afraid that I have quite forgotten its name. I don’t like to trouble her at a time like this. I understand she is feeling a little unwell. I was hoping she might have mentioned its name to you.’

  ‘No, miss,’ Crabtree said, relaxing. ‘All she said to me, miss, was that she was awaiting an important letter from London. I’m glad it was only about a fancy dress costume. She seemed terribly anxious about it, not like her at all, miss.’

  A letter from London, so Josephine had been lying to her! She had told her she was awaiting a letter from a local shop. And yes, Crabtree was right, she had been very upset, frantic even. She had even insisted that the boot boy be sent to the post office to check for the letter. She had been most insistent on the matter, if Rose recalled correctly. How very out of character it had been. It was more the sort of thing Isabella would have done. And she remembered even at the time she had not believed the letter to be just about a fancy dress costume, as Josephine had claimed it to be. It had been the first excuse Josephine could think of, she was sure, being caught on the spot as she had been with Rose’s sudden appearance in the hall while she was interrogating the butler. Josephine had been embarrassed and flustered and had realised at once that she came across as such. Indeed, she had made reference to her agitated state, said that Rose must be thinking she was making a silly song and dance about it. And she had tried to explain it away, pretended that the letter had only been about a trivial matter when really it had been about something important, something so important that its failure to arrive had left her on the verge of tears.

  Crabtree, deciding his presence was no longer required, had left the room. Rose meanwhile was thinking furiously. Josephine had been waiting anxiously for a letter, the contents of which were so important to her that she had refused to accept that the letter had not been sent, preferring to believe that it had been lost in the post rather than never written. And she had deliberately tried to hide from Rose what it was about and that it had come from London. The eagerly awaited letter from London had never arrived and, on the very same day that Josephine had been questioning Crabtree as to its possible whereabouts and the action to be taken to try and retrieve it, she had run off to London in the dead of night. The two things must be connected. It was too much of a coincidence if they were not. But there must be something else, Rose decided, to make her act so impulsively and irrationally, traits that one did not usually associate with Josephine. So it had certainly been a contributory factor in Josephine’s sudden departure, but not the overriding one, Rose decided on reflection. There must have been something else that had mad
e her decide to up and leave when she did, the house being full of her family and guests as it was. And she mustn’t forget that Josephine had been prepared to forsake Dareswick forever, to steal out into the night, never to return. For she had taken with her a suitcase of practical clothes and jewellery that could be sold or pawned when times were bad.

  And yet she had come back to Dareswick. Why had she come back? Had she known when she set off that there was a possibility that she would come back, that she would not see through what she was determined to do? And had it been her decision or had the decision to return been forced on her? It seemed most likely that she had been depending on someone else and that person had let her down.

  It was no use dwelling for the time being on who that other person could be, Rose decided. What she must do instead was ascertain the other factors that had persuaded Josephine to take flight when she did. Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult for Josephine had spent most of the day with her, one way or another.

  Rose was roused from her contemplations by the clatter of cues on the billiard table. The game and match were over and Cedric was patting Hallam on the back and congratulating him. Rose wondered idly whether Cedric had let the boy win. Hallam then said that he had some letters to write and left to go to his room.

  ‘I say, Rose,’ Cedric said, coming over to her. ‘Hallam going off to write letters has reminded me that I’ve got some to do as well. I was going to put them off until tomorrow but I’d rather get them over and done with now, I think. But I have no intention of leaving you by yourself. I expect the library’s still locked, don’t you, and even if it isn’t I don’t think either of us would much fancy using it after what’s happened. I think there’s a little sitting room that Hallam’s mother used to use sometimes to sew in and do embroidery. Perhaps we could find that and you can finish reading your magazine while I write my letters.’ He smiled and drew her towards him, holding her hands in his. Rose felt a tingle run up her spine. If only there had not been these murders, if only….