by Rhys Bowen
“Please do take a seat.”
“Chief Inspector,” I said, “I understand that my brother has been arrested. This is absolutely ridiculous. I do hope you can instruct your junior officers to let him go immediately.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my lady.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have enough evidence in our possession to believe that your brother was the most likely person to have murdered Mr. de Mauxville.”
“I have one word for you, Chief Inspector. Balderdash. All you have is a note purporting to come from my brother, which is an obvious forgery. There must be fingerprints on it. You can analyze the handwriting.”
“We have done so. There are no fingerprints but de Mauxville’s, and it is not at all clear that the handwriting is forged. I agree there are some vital differences from the way your brother forms some of his letters, but that could have been done to make the note appear like a forgery.”
“And my brother has already told you that he would never write to anyone on writing paper that did not bear the family crest, unless he was at his club at the time, in which case it would bear the club crest.”
“Again he could have deliberately substituted substandard notepaper, to make this very argument.”
With the use of the word “notepaper,” my opinion of him went down. Not the right sort of school then. “I have to tell you, Chief Inspector, that my brother has never been known for his quick wit or his brainpower. He would never have thought through such complicated details. Besides, what possible motive could he have had for killing a man he hardly knew? Without a motive, surely you have no case.”
He looked at me long and hard. He had the most piercing blue eyes and I found it hard to hold his gaze. “We happen to think he had the strongest of motives, my lady. He was fighting to preserve his home.”
He must have noticed my face fall.
“Of which I am sure you were fully aware. Or maybe you were in on it too. We’ll be looking into that, but you do seem to have an alibi for the day in question, if your friend can be trusted.”
“May one ask how you came about this knowledge?” I asked.
“Pure luck. The handwriting expert we took the writing samples to was the same woman who had been asked to verify your father’s handwriting. Of course she was delighted to show us her copy of de Mauxville’s document. Maybe your brother thought that with his royal connections, he was above the law. But I can assure you that the law is the same for a duke or a pauper. We think he killed Gaston de Mauxville and if he did, then he will hang for it.”
“I trust you are still considering other leads, or have you decided that my brother makes a good sitting duck?” I tried to sound calm and in control although my mouth was so dry it was hard to form the words.
“If we find any other credible leads, we will pursue them,” he said calmly.
“I have been asking around and I understand that this de Mauxville was a known gambler, also a known blackmailer. Did it occur to you that someone he had been blackmailing had finally had enough?”
He nodded. “Yes, that did occur to us. We found a wad of five-pound notes in his suit pocket. And it did cross our minds that he might also have been blackmailing your brother.”
I had to laugh at this. “I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, but one person in the world you couldn’t blackmail is my brother. Hamish has led an impeccable life to the point of being utterly boring. No affairs, no debts, no bad habits at all. So find somebody with a more interesting lifestyle, and you’ll have your killer.”
“I admire your loyalty, Lady Georgiana. I assure you that we will be looking into all possibilities and your brother will get a fair trial.”
“Before you hang him,” I said bitterly and made a sweeping exit.
I left Scotland Yard in deep gloom. What could I possibly do to save Binky? I hardly knew my own way around London. We would have to rely on a solicitor who should have retired to Worthing or Bournemouth years ago.
As I passed the post office, I realized that I had completely forgotten about my new business enterprise. I hardly felt in the mood to clean houses at the moment, but I would need money if I was to go running around London in taxies on Binky’s behalf. So I went inside and was handed two letters. The first was from a Mrs. Baxter of Dullwich who wanted extra staff for her daughter’s twenty-first birthday party. Since I could only supply a staff of one, I thought that assignment highly unlikely.
The next was from Mrs. Asquey d’Asquey, mother of the bride at the Grosvenor House wedding. Her daughter (now Primrose Roly Poley) was due home from her honeymoon in Italy on the seventh and she wanted to surprise her by having her new house opened up, clean and welcoming, with windows open and fresh flowers everywhere. I was tempted to accept. The money was desperately needed, but the risk was just too great. I had no guarantee that Primrose’s mother would not be sailing in and out with her arms full of fresh flowers, reorganizing Primrose’s furniture, if my suspicions were correct. She might not have noticed me at the wedding, when everyone is in a state of shock, but she’d certainly recognize me if I was dusting her bedroom. Reluctantly I’d have too many prior assignments this week to meet her needs.
I came home to the most heavenly smell of cooking. My grandfather was making a steak and kidney pudding. What’s more, the boiler was now working and the house was delightfully warm in a quite un-Rannoch-like way. Belinda had already escaped to the comfort of her own house, declaring that one night of excitement was all she could take, so Granddad and I sat together, debating what could be done for Binky. Neither of us could come up with any good suggestions.
At four o’clock Fig telephoned. She was coming to London the next day to be at her husband’s side. Would I make sure her bedroom and dressing room were ready for her? A fire would be nice as she’d be tired from the journey. She blamed me, she went on to say. How could I possibly let Binky get into such a mess? Now she supposed she’d have to sort it out. For a moment I actually pitied the policemen at Scotland Yard. I couldn’t wait to see the meeting between Fig and Harry Sugg. If the situation hadn’t been so grim, I would have chuckled.
The next morning I was in the midst of dusting her dressing room when there was a knock at the front door. Granddad, who had now turned himself into butler as well as cook, came back to report that there was a policeman to see me. A Chief Inspector Burnall.
“Show him into the morning room,” I said with a sigh and hastily removed the scarf I had been wearing for my cleaning duties.
The chief inspector was looking impeccably groomed and very distinguished and I was horribly aware that I was wearing an old skirt in which the tweed had bottomed over the years. He rose to meet me and greeted me with a polite bow.
“Your ladyship. I’m sorry to disturb you again. I see you now have your butler in residence.”
His smug look indicated that we’d had no servants in the house only while we killed de Mauxville.
“That is not our butler. It’s my grandfather. He’s come to keep an eye on me since he thinks my life might be in danger.”
“Your grandfather. Well, I’m damned.”
“So what brings you here this morning? Good news, I hope. You’ve found the real killer?”
“I’m afraid to disappoint you in that, my lady. In fact I come on a quite different matter today. One of great delicacy.”
“Really?” I couldn’t think what he could be talking about. “I suppose you’d better take a seat.”
We sat.
“You are familiar with the home of Sir William Featherstonehaugh on Eaton Place?”
“Of course I am. Roderick Featherstonehaugh was one of my dancing partners when I came out.”
“I regret to inform you that several items of considerable value were found to be missing from that house when Lady Featherstonehaugh arrived last weekend.”
“How terrible.” I could feel my heart thumping and hoped he couldn’t actually hear it.
“It
transpires that Lady Featherstonehaugh hired a domestic agency to open up the house for her. Coronet Domestics, I believe the name is. And following up on the advertisement in the Times, it appears that Coronet Domestics is owned by none other than yourself, Lady Georgiana. Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“Interesting. May I ask if you have any input in the day-to-day running of this service or are you merely the titular head?”
“No, I am involved.”
“I see. So I would be grateful if you would supply me with the names of the staff members who were working at Lady Featherstonhaugh’s that day. I trust you have checked all their references thoroughly before you employed them?”
I swallowed hard, trying to think of a plausible lie, but couldn’t come up with one.
“This is strictly between ourselves, Chief Inspector,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if it didn’t go any further than necessary.”
“Go on.”
“The truth is that I am Coronet Domestics. As yet I have no staff.”
He couldn’t have looked more shocked if I had told him that I danced naked on the tables at the Pink Pussycat. “You clean other people’s houses? Yourself?”
“Strange though that may sound, I do it out of necessity. My allowance has been cut off and I need to survive on my own. This seemed a good way to start.”
“I must say, I take my hat off to you,” he said. “Right. Well, this should make it much simpler. I am going to read you a description of the objects and maybe you can tell me whether you noticed them while you were doing your domestic duties.
“A Georgian silver coffeepot. A large silver salver. Two miniatures of the Moghul school from India. A small Chinese figurine of the Goddess of Mercy.”
“I can answer that one,” I said. “I broke an arm off, accidentally. I took it with me, planning to have it repaired and replace it. I didn’t think it would be noticed among so many knickknacks.”
“Apparently it’s eighth century.”
“Gosh, is it?” I swallowed hard. “As to the other things. I remember dusting a glass-topped table full of miniatures, but I don’t think any were missing, or I’d have noticed the gaps. And I really can’t remember seeing a silver coffeepot or a salver.”
I noticed he was looking around the room, as if he expected to see the coffeepot hidden behind the ormolu clock.
“You did say you were short of funds, my lady. Maybe the temptation was just too great.”
I felt a Great-grandmother impersonation coming on. “Chief Inspector, did you ever steal anything?”
He smiled. “Scrumping apples from a nearby orchard when I was a small boy.”
“When I was three I took one of Cook’s shortbread biscuits from the rack where they were cooling. They had just come out of the oven and were still hot. I burned my mouth. I have never taken anything since. But you are most welcome to search this house if you choose.”
“I take your word for it. Besides, a pawnbroker or jeweler would remember someone like you coming into his shop.”
“You’re confident the items will show up at a pawnshop or jeweler’s?”
“Unless the thief is a pro, then they’d be handed over to a proper fence. But we’ve got our spies working that aspect as well. One of the items will appear somewhere before long, you’ll see.”
“You don’t think the thief is a professional?”
“Not worth his while. If he gained access to the house, why limit himself to a few items when there was plenty of more valuable stuff there for the taking? This was someone who seized the opportunity to grab a few things. So let me ask you—were you alone in the house the whole time?”
I opened my mouth but no sound would come out. I couldn’t tell him about Darcy’s visit without getting myself into deep trouble. Because Darcy would say that he had come to visit me and then the Featherstonehaughs would know that I’d been cleaning their house and it would be all around London in two seconds and at the palace in three.
“Not all the time,” I said carefully, trying to avoid a complete lie. “The Featherstonehaughs’ son came in at one stage with one of his friends.”
“And saw you?”
“He didn’t recognize me. I was on my hands and knees at the time and I made sure I didn’t look up. Besides, nobody looks twice at servants.”
“When you left did you lock the front door?”
I considered this. “Yes, I think I heard the latch click behind me. I don’t know if Roderick Featherstonehaugh was still in the house when I left. He might have been the one to have left the door open. As my brother said, when one is used to servants in the house, one doesn’t think about locking doors.”
Burnall rose to his feet. “Sorry to have troubled you again, my lady. If you happen to remember seeing any of those items, do get in touch, won’t you? And the little Chinese figure—if you hurry up and get it repaired, I’ll take it back to Lady Featherstonehaugh and I’ll be suitably vague about where we located it.”
“Very kind of you, Chief Inspector.”
“The least I could do, my lady.”
My grandfather was waiting in the front hall with the inspector’s hat. He inclined his head to me and departed. I went upstairs again to finish Fig’s room. Having specks of dust pointed out to me would be the last thing I could stand at the moment. In fact I was so wound up I felt as if I might snap. More than anything I was furious with myself for being so naïve. Darcy had just been using me. Why else would he have sought out my company after he found out that I was as penniless as he? I wasn’t the sort of fun-loving, nightclubbing girl he liked. I ran downstairs and put on my coat.
“I’m going out,” I shouted to my grandfather and took a cab to Chelsea.
Darcy looked as if he had just got out of bed. He was barefoot, in a toweling robe, and he hadn’t shaved and his hair was tousled. I tried not to register how very attractive that looked. His eyes lit up when he saw me on the doorstep.
“Well, what a surprise this is. Good morning to you, my lovely. Have you come back to continue from where we left off the other night?”
“I’ve come back to tell you that you are a despicable rat and I never want to see you again and you’re very lucky that I didn’t give your name to the police.”
Those alarming blue eyes opened wide. “Whoa, now. What is it that I can possibly have done to produce such a tirade from those genteel lips?”
“You know perfectly well what you’ve done,” I said. “I have been a complete fool to think you might actually be interested in me. You were using me, weren’t you? You pretended you came to the Featherstonehaughs’ to see me, when you really wanted an excuse to get inside their house and help yourself to their valuables.”
He frowned. “Their valuables?”
“Oh, come on, I’m not that stupid, Darcy. You tiptoe into the house, pretend to flirt with me, and then, miraculously, several valuable items go missing.”
“And you think I took them?”
“You told me yourself that you are penniless and you live by your wits. I imagine your lifestyle with the nightclubs and the women is rather expensive to maintain. And who would notice an odd piece of Georgian silver missing? You’re just damned lucky that I didn’t tell the police, but now I’m their obvious suspect. It’s bad enough that they think Binky and I murdered de Mauxville. Now they also think I do burglaries on the side. So if you really are anything of a gentleman, you’ll return those items immediately and go and confess.”
“So that’s what you think of me—that I’m a thief?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me. I’ve been stupidly naïve over too many things. Why else would you pretend to be interested in me after you found out I had no money? I certainly couldn’t offer the delights of a Belinda Warburton-Stoke.”
With that I fled before I started to cry. He didn’t attempt to come after me.
Chapter 23
Rannoch House
Wednesday, May 4, 1932
/> I was overcome with gloom. Fig had arrived and made it clear that she didn’t appreciate having my grandfather in the house. She’d found fault with everything, including the fact that the house was too warm and it was an unheard-of expense to run a boiler for one person. Grandfather beat a hasty retreat, telling me I was welcome to stay with him, and I was left alone with Fig and her maid. I don’t think I had ever felt more wretched. What else can possibly go wrong? I wondered.
I didn’t have long to wait. Fig’s maid handed me a letter that had just been hand-delivered from the palace. Her Majesty would like to see me immediately. Strangely enough, Fig was quite put out by it. “How is it that Her Majesty wants to see you?” she demanded.
“I am a relative,” I replied, rubbing in the fact that she wasn’t.
