Death at Thorburn Hall

by Julianna Deering

  “But who would have had the opportunity to tamper with that saddle? Only our people. Are you saying Clarridge would have done it? But why? What benefit would it give him? Do you think he may have been paid off?”

  “How hard would it be to get into the tack room?” Drew asked.

  Lady Louisa blinked. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “It’s kept locked,” Joan said. “My father was insistent about that, and the door lock is very strong. I don’t think it could be forced open without Mr. Clarridge hearing something.”

  Her mother frowned. “It’s open during the day, isn’t it? I’m sure I’ve been down there when there’s no one about and I’ve seen the tack room open.”

  Joan looked at her as if she were momentarily confused. “It’s not like Mr. Clarridge to be so careless.”

  “Well, perhaps I’m remembering wrong. I don’t know. It just seems incredibly bizarre to think someone might have wanted Gerald dead. Why would they?”

  “It always seems only other people have such things happen to them,” Drew said. “But sometimes it hits close to home.”

  “Then what do we do?” Lady Louisa clasped Drew’s hand. “It couldn’t possibly be someone we know, could it?”

  “Neither of you know anyone who’d want to kill him?” Drew asked, looking from Lady Louisa to her daughter.

  “Of course not,” Louisa said. “I’m not saying Gerald was a saint by any means, but he was a good, honest man who always tried to do right by people. Ask anyone.”

  Joan looked away from her mother, far out over the water. “Maybe he was too honest.”

  “What do you mean?” Drew asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe he saw something or knew about something that someone had done . . . something wrong. Something someone didn’t want getting out.”

  “Such as?”

  She exhaled audibly. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything, but what else could it be? Nobody stands to gain from his death but us. Mother has a life estate in the property. I understand I’m to be given a sum in trust, but I won’t get the principal until I’m twenty-five.”

  Lady Louisa nodded.

  “Until Mother’s gone,” Joan said, “I don’t really come into much of anything.”

  Drew was silent for a moment, thinking. “Forgive my prying, Lady Louisa, but might I ask if there’s anything more you’ll inherit now that Lord Rainsby is gone?”

  Louisa lifted her head, startled and looking rather hurt. “As my daughter told you, I have a life estate in Gerald’s property, and then the rest goes to Joan upon my death. I understand he left me a certain amount to maintain the Hall and other holdings, as well as to provide for my needs, but it really wasn’t necessary. I was left quite comfortable by my father, your great-uncle. If you would like to speak to his solicitors, you certainly have my leave to do so. They will tell you precisely what is in the will.”

  “No offense meant,” Drew said. “Please understand, these things must be asked.”

  “I suppose they do,” she said, softening. “And I was in earnest just now. Twining will give you our solicitor’s name and address. It’s a firm in London. Can’t remember the name at the moment. But I’ll be happy to write them, requesting that they show you whatever you’d like to see.”

  “Thank you. I suppose the police have already asked these things.”

  Lady Louisa closed her eyes. “I don’t know. They seemed satisfied that it was an accident. I don’t really remember what all they asked, but they’re welcome to look into the will, too. It’s quite straightforward.”

  Joan drew her dark brows together. “I thought your solicitor was Mr. Barnaby in the high street.”

  “Well, yes,” Louisa said. “But just for some minor things. Some of your father’s business matters. He’d had the London firm well before then. All his life really. They were your grandfather’s solicitors when we all still lived in Cornwall.”

  “I don’t suppose I’ve ever heard why you’re living up here in Scotland when his estate is in Cornwall,” Drew said, looking from mother to daughter.

  “Oh, didn’t you know? Thorburn Hall was my grandfather’s estate and eventually passed down to me. When Gerald and I married, his brother Samuel was Lord Rainsby. Gerald never dreamed he’d come into the title, so we made our life up here. Even after he became Lord Rainsby, we spent most of the year in Scotland, though we always went to Cornwall in the winter where it’s not so bitterly cold.” Lady Louisa smiled and patted her daughter’s arm. “Of course, Joan always went to English schools, so you’d hardly believe she’s our little Scotswoman.”

  Joan’s desire to roll her eyes was palpable, but she said nothing.

  Her mother patted her again. “All that to say you’ll have to go to London if you want to see how Gerald’s estate is to be settled.”

  “I can’t see that’s entirely necessary,” Drew said. “Most likely the police will look into it, if they haven’t already, but it all seems very straightforward. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Still, you will stay and see what you can find out?” Joan’s hands were clenched into pale fists. “You’ve simply got to. Especially if the police aren’t going to look into it.”

  “Your mother hasn’t said if she wants to be bothered with all of us staying on.”

  “Of course you’re all welcome.”

  Lady Louisa’s words were perfectly cordial, but he could see the reluctance in her expression.

  “I know this is a difficult time for you. If you’d prefer, we can all take rooms at the inn in the village. I presume there is one.”

  “There is, but I won’t hear of your doing that.” Louisa managed a wan smile. “I won’t promise to be a very entertaining hostess for the rest of your stay, but I do hope you’ll stay here all the same.” Her lips trembled. “If someone murdered poor Gerald, I want to know who it was and why.”

  Drew leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll do my best to find out. Now, if you’ll both pardon me, I’d better go tell the others we’re staying on a bit.”

  Drew found Madeline, Nick, and Carrie in the garden. Madeline sat on the chaise with a book in her lap, but the only thing she was reading was the looks between Nick and Carrie as they walked through the roses and out to the folly some yards away.

  “Drew.” She made a rapid motion with one hand, urging him to come to her without making himself obvious.

  With a silent chuckle, he went to her and sat at the end of the chaise. “Are we making progress?”

  “I think so,” she said, studying the two lovebirds for a moment. “They’ve been walking and talking and, oh, you know, just being together. Do you suppose he’ll ask her soon?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  Her hopeful expression darkened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. I have some news, and I’m afraid it’s going to pitch a spanner into the works as far as the grand romance is concerned.”

  “No.” Madeline darted a look toward the other couple. “What’s happened?”

  “I’ll tell all of you at once.” He stood. “I say, Nick, would you two mind coming over for a bit of a chat?”

  “You’ve chosen better moments,” Nick protested, peering out from behind an ivy-covered marble column.

  Carrie laughed and came down the folly’s crumbling steps, pulling him with her to where Drew and Madeline sat. “It’s all right. What’s your incredible news?” The light in her eyes suddenly dimmed into wariness. “What?”

  “All right,” he said, “here it is. There’s new evidence about Lord Rainsby’s death. It seems quite unlikely it was an accident.”

  Carrie’s face lost its color. “He was murdered?”

  “I expect so,” Drew said, glancing at Madeline. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything yet, not until he knew more for certain. “It looks as if someone arranged for the saddle’s girth to give way, causing Rainsby to fall to his death. I don’t know much more than that yet.”

 
Nick squeezed Carrie’s hand and then tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Have you told the police, Drew?”

  “They don’t seem that interested in the case. I suppose they think I want to be a trumpery detective again and am imagining criminal activity where there is none.”

  “But you don’t have any doubt?” Madeline asked with a glance toward her friend.

  “I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t. Inspector Ranald thinks it was merely a mistake by the saddlers. I’m not sure when he’ll bother to look into it, or if he will at all. I can’t leave the ladies of the house wondering what’s happened. It’s got to be worrisome to think that if Lord Rainsby was indeed murdered, one of them might also be a target.”

  “He was murdered.” For a moment Carrie stood perfectly still, her face blank, her grip on Nick’s arm tightening. “I . . . I can’t stay here anymore. I’m very sorry. Please excuse me.”

  Nick’s eyes widened as she pulled free of him and hurried away. “Carrie, sweetheart, wait! Don’t—”

  Drew put a hand on Nick’s arm, stopping him from rushing after her. She didn’t look back. She didn’t stop or even slow. They could only watch as she disappeared into the house through the French doors.

  Nick stood staring at the house for the longest while. Finally he turned back to Drew and Madeline. “I’ve got to talk to her. I know that look.”

  “Better not,” Drew cautioned. “Give her a bit of time.”

  There was grim resignation on Nick’s face. “I know that look. Whatever she’s decided to do, there’s no shifting it now.”

  “Let me talk to her,” Madeline said, giving Nick’s hand a squeeze. “It’ll be all right.”

  “She can’t . . .” He looked toward the house once more. “She can’t go. Not now.”

  “Come on, Nick, old man.” Drew put an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Let’s have a look at that tack room. The saddle’s been put into evidence with the police, but now I’m wondering who might have been able to get at it over the past week or two.”

  Nick looked over at Madeline, but she was already in the house and gone. He turned to Drew. “I can’t let her go. It’s been three years, and I’m not letting her make it three more.”

  Madeline tapped on Carrie’s door and then pushed it open. “Carrie?”

  Carrie looked up from her seat at the dressing table, her nose and lips red and swollen, her blue eyes shining with tears. “I can’t do this again. I can’t stand by while everyone around me is murdered.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Madeline squeezed onto the chair beside her and wrapped her in her arms.

  “After what happened to Billy . . .” The tears spilled onto Carrie’s pink cheeks, and she blotted them away with a lace handkerchief, leaving a dark smudge of mascara beneath each eye and on the lace. “I can’t stand it.”

  “I know,” Madeline murmured. “I know. But maybe Drew’s wrong this time. Maybe it was just an accident.”

  Carrie shrugged away from her. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. Someone murdered Lord Rainsby, and it’s probably someone staying in the house. Or someone who comes visiting regularly.”

  “Carrie—”

  “How do you stand it?” Carrie sobbed. “How do you stand being around this all the time?”

  “It’s not all the time,” Madeline said weakly.

  Carrie only glared at her.

  “Drew doesn’t set out looking for this sort of thing, but when he can help, when he can try to see that justice is done and no one else gets hurt, how can he turn his back and do nothing? How can any of us?”

  “But you,” Carrie pressed. “How can you stand it, knowing he’s in danger all the time? Knowing you’re in danger all the time?” Her lips trembled. “We were all nearly killed the last time I was in England. How am I supposed to stay here in this house knowing it might happen all over again? How do you stand it?”

  “It does scare me sometimes.” Madeline swallowed hard. “I sometimes wonder if Drew might not come home from one of his investigations. And when we’re both involved, I sometimes wonder if we’re in over our heads.”

  Carrie nodded. “And you are, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes, I suppose.”

  Madeline didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t think of anything that might make Carrie reconsider. Nick would be heartbroken. Nick . . . She smiled just slightly.

  Carrie frowned. “What?”

  “I was just thinking about something Nick told me the other day,” Madeline said, “about sheep.”

  Carrie’s forehead puckered. “Sheep?”

  “People generally think sheep are stupid, you know, but he says they’re not.” Madeline squeezed Carrie’s hand. “It’s only when they’re afraid that they make bad decisions.”

  Carrie blotted her face with her handkerchief again, wiping away the streaks of mascara. She patted her bright hair, all the while looking at Madeline in the mirror.

  Finally Carrie turned to face her, her hands in her lap. “I’m going home.”

  Madeline covered one of Carrie’s hands with her own. “Please don’t. You’ve just gotten here, and it’s taken forever to get you to come in the first place.”

  Carrie drew a breath that was almost a sob. “I can’t stay here and just wait for someone else to die.” She covered her face with her hands and began crying in earnest.

  Once more Madeline put her arms around her. “Shh, it’s all right. Of course you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. But please don’t go all the way back home.”

  Carrie sniffled into her handkerchief again. “But where would I go?”

  “Well, there must be a hotel of some sort in Gullane, don’t you think? How would it be if you stayed there? Then whatever happens here at the house, you’d be away from it.”

  “But what about you? And . . .” She glanced toward the closed door. “And everybody?”

  “I’d come with you. We wouldn’t want to give the nice ladies of the village anything to gossip about, would we?”

  Carrie glanced at the door again.

  “Nick will understand,” Madeline assured her.

  Carrie sighed. “He won’t like it.”

  “He’ll like it better than having you go back to America.”

  The tiniest hint of a grin tugged at Carrie’s lips. “Drew certainly won’t like it.”

  “He’s a big boy and can manage on his own for a day or two. He’ll probably be glad to have us out of harm’s way.” Madeline stood and held out her hand. “Come on. The sooner we tell them, the more time they’ll have to get used to the idea.”

  Once he’d got Madeline and Carrie adjoining rooms with a sitting room at The Swan in Gullane, Drew went to speak to Lady Louisa. It was early, but she was already retiring for the evening. He stopped her at the foot of the stairway.

  “I know you must be very tired, but I was wondering if I might have a word with you before you go up. In private, if I may.”

  “I hope there’s nothing wrong,” she said, looking dismayed. “I realize this hasn’t been the charming holiday everyone expected. Still, I want you all to at least be comfortable.”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. Everything’s perfectly fine. I just hoped to speak with you about . . . well, recent events.”

  Louisa smiled wearily. “I may not be able to carry on a rational conversation at this point, but I’ll be happy to oblige if you’d like.”

  They went into her sitting room, more gleaming white on white with silver and mirrored trim, and sat down, she behind the little desk where she no doubt wrote her letters, and he across from her.

  “First off, I regret to tell you that, for the present, Madeline and Miss Holland have gone to stay at The Swan in Gullane. Please don’t be offended,” he said when she began to protest. “Everything here has been lovely. It’s just that Miss Holland had a rather awful time of it when we were all in Beaulieu a while back, and with everything that’s happened here, she prefers to be away from
it all. She is terribly sorry, needless to say, and hopes you’ll understand.”

  Lady Louisa didn’t at all look as if she understood, but she was gracious enough not to say so. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry she’s been upset.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve been upset with all this,” Drew replied. “Naturally, Madeline went along to Gullane to keep her company, though if it’s quite all right, Mr. Dennison and I will stay on here for a bit longer. Just to make sure you and Miss Rainsby are looked after.”

  “I hate to impose on either of you.”

  “It’s no imposition in the least. Twining tells me the police have come back to speak to the servants and to you again. I expect they’ve given you a bad time of it.” He didn’t want to make things more difficult for her than they already were. There was always something gentle and easily hurt in her large dark eyes, now more so than ever. “They mean well, no doubt, but they can be rather tiresome.”

  “I suppose it had to be done.” She took a cigarette from the crystal box on the desk and rummaged in the drawer for a match. “I couldn’t tell them much. I don’t know much.” Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears as she struck a light and held it trembling to the cigarette’s end. “Gerald and I were just going along as we always had done, and then . . . then we weren’t.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She blew out a long plume of smoke and then waved it away. “I should have asked if you minded. It’s such a habit, I scarcely know I’m doing it anymore.”

  “Please, don’t worry yourself over it. I know it’s been a very trying day for you. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you what you told the police.”

  She blinked at him. “I’m not sure I understand why you’re asking.”

  “Forgive me. I suppose it isn’t entirely my place, but now that it’s fairly certain his lordship’s death wasn’t accidental, I feel I owe it to him to look into matters. I just thought I’d see what the inspector’s line of questioning was and what you told him.” He put his hand over the one she had resting before her on the desk. “It wouldn’t be too painful for you, would it?”