‘And some were in full costume,’ Eleanor added, waving for the bulldog to sit. ‘Like Lancelot and his friends.’
‘And his young lordship was dressed as a pirate?’ asked Clifford.
Eleanor frowned. ‘But he might not have been the only pirate.’
‘I didn’t see any others,’ Lord Langham offered. ‘But apparently I only spot game birds.’ He gestured towards his wife. He took his napkin from his lap and shook it over the grass, smiling as Gladstone pounced on every last morsel of the flaky pastry crumbs.
Eleanor smiled at the greedy bulldog. ‘Augusta, did you see anyone else dressed as a pirate?’
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘No, but I wouldn’t have been surprised.’ Then she peered at Eleanor. ‘What is it, my dear? You look quite perplexed.’
‘Oh, it was just something else Miss Glew said about Lancelot’s costume.’
Clifford tilted his head. ‘Which was, my lady?’
‘That she thought she saw Lancelot go up the stairs, but then saw him go up again shortly after. That’s why I wondered if someone else had come as a pirate.’
Lady Langham tutted again. ‘Probably one of his pranks. He likely went up the stairs normally, and then slid down the servants’ staircase so that he could magically reappear and be seen going up again.’
‘But why would he do that?’
‘My dear girl, why does Lancelot do anything that he does? I love him with all my heart, but I rarely understand an ounce of what is going on in his head.’
Eleanor mentally agreed. ‘Aside from Miss Glew mentioning a pair of pirate legs going up the stairs, the only other person who reported seeing more than one pirate was Sandford.’
‘Was there a common theme among the costumes of his young lordship and friends, perhaps?’ Clifford asked.
Eleanor ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Not that I could detect. Pirate, Cleopatra, a bird of paradise, a Raphael painting and a harlequin.’
‘Hmm…’ Lady Langham stared at Clifford over the rim of her teacup. ‘But perhaps I interrupted your thoughts, Clifford?’
‘Not at all, my lady. I was merely wondering what his Royal Highness Prince Singh sported as a costume? Perhaps he came as a pirate too?’
Eleanor shrugged. ‘I missed Lucas’ effort. He’d already left before I arrived.’
Lady Langham huffed. ‘Young people these days. Whatever are standards and manners coming to, Clifford?’
‘I really couldn’t comment, my lady,’ Clifford replied.
Eleanor tapped the table. ‘But we didn’t find out what Lucas was wearing.’
This made Lord Langham chuckle again. ‘I know. And it wasn’t a pirate. Saw the fellow when he arrived. Thought it was quite striking. A highwayman costume, the full Dick Turpin with black cape, black hat and mask.’
‘If his costume was so singularly themed in black,’ Clifford said, ‘it might explain why no one saw him leave the premises. After making his way to his car, he would have been quite the invisible man in the dark.’
Fourteen
Eleanor stared out of the Rolls’ window at the blackness beyond. ‘I’m all up for partying but, honestly, starting at eleven o’clock in the evening is a bit of a jolt for the old body clock. I am seriously out of practice at this.’
‘It is all part of the rebellion against authority and social propriety I believe, my lady,’ Clifford said.
‘Well, I should fit right in then.’
Clifford pulled up at the steps to the club. ‘Perhaps, my lady. However, if you will forgive me repeating my earlier concern, if one of young Lord Fenwick-Langham’s friends did commit the crimes, you could be in significant peril.’
Eleanor turned to face him. ‘Honestly, it’s going to be so horribly crowded in there, no one will have the chance to do anything untoward, trust me.’
He nodded to the glass-fronted entrance. ‘I believe that is Lady Coco and Lady Millicent Childs arriving now.’
Eleanor watched the two sisters step out of the car, Millie marching up the steps, leaving her sister scrabbling with the strap of her elegant grey dance shoe.
‘There’s my cue then.’ She battled with the folds of her emerald-green beaded dress, the gold tassels along the drop sash waistband threatening to create an impossible tangle. ‘Hang on though, Clifford, you can’t sit out here all night waiting for me, it’ll probably be something horrible like dawn when we leave.’
‘No problem, my lady. There is a club I am a member of on Abingdon Street, The Carlton Club. It is behind the spires you can see just to the right.’
‘Marvellous, then settle yourself in there and I shall appear when we’re done.’
‘With apologies, my lady, I fear it would be most unwise of you to walk there…’
‘When will you realise that I am eminently capable of looking after myself? Dash it, I made it around the world on my own for long enough. I think Oxford is unlikely to be a match for the dangers of Bombay or Isfahan.’
‘Granted, one is always mindful of your adventurous exploits, my lady. However, how many times were you possibly in the company of a murderer?’
She started counting on her fingers and then grinned at his frown. ‘I shall be just fine. See you later.’
Eleanor noted that Clifford waited until she had walked up the steps before easing the Rolls out of the swing-through driveway. The two doormen flanking the glass doors opened them simultaneously on her arrival. Suddenly feeling like the gawky new girl, she straightened the pearl studded headband of her gold lace fascinator and slapped on a smile.
The oval-shaped lobby shouted opulence with its heavy use of gold drapes and red velvet flock wallpaper. Glittering chandeliers hung low, adding to an atmosphere that whispered entry beyond this point demanded a large wallet and a penchant for the illicit. The cloakroom attendant stood behind a long counter, the front panel inlaid with black-and-white tiles in a bold geometric pattern.
‘Good evening, miss. First time here?’ The petite girl’s blonde curls bobbed against her highly rouged cheeks.
‘I’m meeting my friends, Lady Millicent and Lady Coco Childs,’ she said, handing over her shawl.
‘Ah, they’ll be down in the swing room, in one of the purple velvet booths near the stage. Lady Coco is a very generous tipper, she’s super kind.’
‘And Lady Millicent?’ Eleanor asked.
The girl smiled weakly. ‘Lady Millicent is… very generous too. Take the left-hand staircase and have fun.’
‘Thank you, you too.’
‘Good evening, sir, shall I take your coat?’ The girl’s voice faded as Eleanor made her way down the sweeping, red plush carpeted stairs. She paused as the swing room came into view, searching for Coco. Spotting her at the far end, she waved and Coco beckoned her over.
She rose as Eleanor arrived at the table, which, as predicted, was only a short distance from the stage where a seven-piece band was setting up.
‘Hey, welcome.’ Coco smiled. ‘You made it.’
‘Of course. Howdy!’ Eleanor gave a general wave to the table.
‘Hi there.’ Lucas waved his glass. ‘Great to finally meet you.’
Eleanor smiled at him. ‘And you too. I hope you sorted your emergency out the night of the ball.’
He looked confused for a moment and then laughed. ‘Oh, yes, that. All fine now, thanks. An aunt was having a “fit of the vapours”, as I believe you call it? Our family loves a spot of drama.’
‘Good evening.’ Albert half rose from his rather low seat, pulled up to the table.
‘Are you planning to entertain the assembled crowd once again with your flailing frog on the floor impression, Lady Swift?’ Millie’s face lit up with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
‘Millie, please!’ Coco hissed.
‘Oh, rather.’ Eleanor grinned. ‘I intend to make an absolute spectacle of myself on the dance floor. Nothing like notoriety I always find.’
The others laughed heartily, except Millie,
who rolled her eyes.
‘Johnny’s late, as always!’ Coco tutted.
‘He really is a shocker for timekeeping,’ Albert said.
‘Actually.’ Eleanor slid in next to Lucas. ‘I’m pretty shocking at arriving on time, too.’
Albert snorted. ‘But Mister So-Special-Seaton does it on purpose. He’s a total blockhead about needing to make an entrance every time we meet, always has to be the centre of attention.’
‘Who?’ Eleanor frowned.
Coco raised her voice over the noise of the band tuning up. ‘He means Johnny, his surname is Seaton. Albie’s jealous because Johnny tends to turn lots of heads whenever he finally deigns to arrive.’
‘And dear old Albie doesn’t.’ Lucas slapped his friend on the shoulder.
Albert glared at him. ‘We can’t all be born princes.’
‘Johnny’s not titled, is he?’ Eleanor asked Coco, who laughed at the question.
‘No, but he certainly acts the part! His father’s a banker. But we don’t care about all that stuff, anyway. The whole class system is so antiquated. Times are moving.’
Millie scowled. ‘Well, I’m not giving up my title for anyone. If you think I’m going to marry a commoner, you’re dumber than a slapped maid.’ She turned her stare on Eleanor. ‘What about you, Lady Swift, what do you say?’
Eleanor smiled sweetly. ‘Oh, I’d say marriage needs to be for love, regardless of titles. Not much point in having all the trappings if you’re not happy.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Albert said.
Millie snorted. ‘Of course you’d agree, Albie, you simple pimple, you haven’t got anything to give up.’
Albert banged the table. ‘I jolly well have. I’ve got the best degree of the lot of you. And ideas. And… connections.’
‘Yes, but only with us, you chump.’ Lucas laughed and stood up. ‘Round three, my turn, same again all?’
Millie banged her glass on the table. ‘About time, mine’s been empty for ages. An Aviator Fizz for me this time, a large one.’
‘If it’s not too lowly for you to buy a commoner a drink?’ Albert held his glass out.
Coco clapped her hands. ‘Make mine one of those fabulous looking things in the tulip-shaped glass. The one with a lemon twist wound round the stem.’
Millie shook her head. ‘It’s called a Hanky Panky. You could try and be a bit more cool, you know. Lucas, don’t forget about Eleanor, the poor thing hasn’t even had one yet. We don’t want her to feel she’s lagging behind now, do we?’
Lucas ignored the snipe and grinned at Eleanor. ‘Sorry, new chum of ours, how rude of me. I should have run to the bar when you arrived. What’ll it be?’
Eleanor couldn’t see a drinks menu anywhere. ‘What’s the signature cocktail here? Oh, though given the name of the club, it’s probably some hideous concoction made from beech nuts with bacon bits floating on the top.’
The table roared with laughter at this, except Millie who crossed her arms. ‘Lucas, I know the perfect cocktail for Eleanor.’
He cocked an eyebrow.
‘Get her an Angel Face.’
‘You know, Millie, you’re really mean sometimes.’ Coco threw Eleanor an apologetic smile.
‘What?’ Millie said innocently. ‘She looks like an angel with her gold organza halo.’
Eleanor shrugged at Lucas. ‘That sounds wonderful, thank you.’
‘Back in a jif.’
He crossed the dance floor to the ivory-and-turquoise bar that ran the full length of one wall. Eleanor looked about, taking in the elaborately tiled faux renaissance pillars and artful silhouettes of dancing couples covering the other walls.
She caught sight of Johnny as he came down the stairs. Effortlessly debonair, he paused and bowed to the many heads he knew he’d turned, before skipping down the last steps as lightly as a dancer. He headed over to the bar where he slapped Lucas on the back. The women at the tables nearest the bar tried to hide their obvious interest in this suave new arrival. She watched Johnny waltz an imaginary partner over to their table.
‘What ho! What round are we on?’ He leaned across and kissed Millie and Coco on both cheeks.
‘Well, it should be your round by now,’ Albert said.
‘Nonsense, old bean. It must be yours, simply because it’s been your round since 1819.’
‘Tommy rot! I pay my way.’ Albert’s face coloured.
‘No one’s saying you don’t, Albie.’ Coco’s tone was soft. ‘Johnny, let him be.’
‘Anything for the ladies,’ Johnny said. ‘Ah, but I see we have another Lady in our midst.’ He nodded at Eleanor.
Millie leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Yes, she is a Lady but she’s prepared to give it all up for love. Such a noble attitude.’
Eleanor glanced at Millie. ‘Apparently my outlook on marriage is somewhat amusing.’
‘But you’re not married.’ Coco frowned.
Eleanor shrugged. ‘Not any more.’
Coco gasped as Millie whispered to her, ‘Ha! Divorced. Lady Fenwick-Langham won’t accept that, not for all the roses in England.’
Eleanor decided not to enlighten her. In fact, she was a widow. She’d married in South Africa six years previously after losing her head to a dashing officer. He turned out not to be an officer at all, and vanished shortly afterwards pursued by the South African authorities. For what, she never found out. Then the war started and she heard nothing more for several months until a government official informed her he’d been shot for selling arms to the enemy.
At that moment, Lucas came back, deftly balancing a large tray of drinks and, to Eleanor’s delight, a silver tiered stand of savoury finger nibbles.
‘Good show.’ Johnny took the drinks off the tray two at a time and handed them round. ‘What the heck is that?’ He peered at the highball glass stacked with ice, a lethal-looking amber liquid and orange slices hanging from the rim. ‘Wait, Eleanor, you didn’t let Millie order for you, did you?’
At her nod, he laughed. ‘Silly girl, you’ll soon learn.’ He placed her drink in front of her. ‘Good luck and God bless your head tomorrow! Now, a toast to our absent friend!’
Everyone raised their glasses. ‘To dear old Lance, may he soon be back among us!’
Millie took a long sip of her Aviatior Fizz, then turned the champagne saucer in her diamond covered wrist. ‘Lucas, the band are in full swing now. I want to dance.’
‘Then I’d better oblige, dear lady.’ Lucas took a swig from his glass and looked at Eleanor. ‘I’ve got to make the most of this. I’ll be back in India in two years when father believes I will have’ – he mimed quotation marks with his fingers – ‘“finished my education”. And that’ll be the end of twirling about with outrageous women.’
‘I’m not outrageous.’ Millie was obviously delighted with the accusation.
‘Yes you are!’ the others chorused.
Millie cocked an eyebrow at Eleanor. ‘Don’t worry though, Lucas, at least I won’t embarrass you by falling on my face.’
Lucas took her hand and they disappeared across to the centre of the dance floor. Eleanor noted Millie’s gold satin heels were ridiculously high for dance shoes and wondered how on earth she’d stay upright.
Johnny tapped a cigarette on the silver case he’d pulled from his inside pocket and stopped with it halfway to his mouth. He waved at someone across the room. ‘Excuse me, an old chum.’ He rose and strode towards the bar calling, ‘Jeffers, long time, no see, old man.’
‘I’m going to powder my nose.’ Coco rose and left Eleanor alone with Albert, who sat glumly staring at his drink.
She tried to think of something to break the silence. ‘Do you dance, Albie?’
‘No, I write poetry. You can’t write poetry and dance.’
‘Well, not at the same time, I suppose.’ She searched for another topic. ‘Do you all come here often?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. Lancelot thinks it’s the bee’s knees and the cat’s pyjamas and other r
idiculous expressions he picked up from his American friends. He’s been dragging us here for ages.’
‘How did you meet Lancelot?’
‘I’m a private tutor. I have several clients.’ He straightened his jacket collar. ‘One of whom is Coco and Millie’s younger brother. Coco invited me along with the gang.’
‘And now you’re good friends with them all?’
‘Hmm, some of them have a funny way of being friendly, but what goes round, comes round.’ He turned his glass in his hand. ‘Do you know William Blake’s poem, “Poison Tree”?’ Without waiting for her reply he began to recite:
‘I was angry with my friend
‘I told my wrath, my wrath did end
‘I was angry with my foe
‘I told it not, my wrath did grow.’
While he was reciting the poem, Albert’s eyes had filled with a strange glow. Eleanor had seen that look in men before. That dark brooding stare, alarmingly hawkish, with the pain of a wounded animal behind those intense eyes. She mentally made a note to find out as much as she could about Mr Appleby. As at last the poem finished, she said, ‘That’s… er, beautiful and… poignant.’ Unable to shift the frown that pulled across her forehead, she stood up. ‘Would you excuse me just a moment?’
She made a quick escape and found the ladies’ powder room at the top of the stairs. As she entered she caught a low voice.
‘Just do it, you little beast. Don’t ask any questions or I’ll have you fired!’
She instinctively stepped into a stall and pushed the door almost to. The voice had sounded familiar. She stood frozen behind the door. The footsteps paused at the basin.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ the same voice hissed.
Eleanor looked down and saw two ridiculously high gold satin heels.
Fifteen
Back in the swing room Lucas and Millie were returning to their table, with Johnny close behind. Once seated, Johnny picked up his drink and turned to Millie.
‘I’m parched, just let me have a swig and I’ll dance your feet off, seeing as you’ve begged so plaintively.’
Death at the Dance: An addictive historical cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 2) Page 10
