The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4)

by Benson, Clara

  ‘It’s a great shame he wasn’t put forward for a medal,’ said Miles. ‘There was no-one to match his bravery in the face of the enemy. He ought to have stayed in the army, really.’

  Herbert gave a sudden roar of laughter.

  ‘I say, Miles,’ he said. ‘Do you remember those two days we spent in Paris?’

  Miles raised his eyebrows humorously.

  ‘If they’re the two days I think you mean, I’m not sure Angela ought to hear about them,’ he said.

  ‘Oh—ah—perhaps you’re right,’ said Herbert, suddenly embarrassed.

  ‘I’m simply dying to know, now,’ said Angela.

  ‘Ah, well, now, you see, the fact of the matter is—’ said Herbert.

  ‘Yes?’ said Angela innocently.

  ‘Stop teasing him, Angela,’ said Miles. ‘Our behaviour while on leave was perhaps not the most dignified, but in those dark days one had to take one’s fun in whatever way it presented itself.’

  ‘I know that very well,’ said Angela. ‘I lived through it too, of course.’

  ‘But I thought you were safe in America then.’

  ‘Not all the time,’ said Angela, and turned the subject.

  Soon afterwards, Marguerite breezed in in her usual dramatic fashion. She was wearing a glorious orange kaftan with gold stripes, and a gold turban.

  ‘Good morning, darlings,’ she said. ‘How early you all are today! Angela, I have just been talking to your young man. What a delightful boy he is! Wherever did you find him?’

  ‘Why, in the States of course.’

  ‘And so handsome, too! Americans are so good-looking, I always find.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he was born in England,’ said Angela.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. He has led a most interesting life. He was born into a family of acrobats who moved to the States when he was very young. He grew up performing with the family troupe, and then went on to star in vaudeville.’

  ‘How thrilling!’ said Marguerite, clasping her hands together. ‘But however did he end up working as your chauffeur?’

  ‘It’s rather a long story,’ said Angela, ‘but I happened to render him a service on a particular occasion—quite by chance, as it happened. We rather took to each other, so I asked if he would care to come and work for me, since I was looking for a driver and man-of-all-work at the time, and he had already mentioned that he was tired of his life on the road. He’s awfully impertinent and familiar—not at all like an English servant—but I don’t mind that, and he’s terribly loyal, so we get along famously.’

  ‘I see,’ said Marguerite. There was a gleam in her eyes, and Angela, who knew her friend well, wondered whether she ought perhaps to give William a warning, although he was surely old enough to look after himself.

  At a quarter to twelve, Angela found herself sitting with Freddy Pilkington-Soames in his little two-seater as they drove along the narrow lanes towards Blakeney Park. When not affecting incurable boredom, Freddy was rather good company, and Angela laughed—guiltily, it is true—at some of his more acerbic remarks about the party.

  ‘I see Marguerite has got her hooks on your driver,’ he said slyly, somewhat to Angela’s surprise. Before she could determine whether or not to admit to having noticed the same thing, he went on, ‘I shouldn’t worry, though—she’ll lose interest quickly enough. She did in me.’

  At that, Angela opened her eyes wide and turned to him sharply.

  ‘Freddy!’ she exclaimed. He nodded and she hardly knew whether or not to laugh at his complacent expression. ‘But—did you—?’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘I shall say no more, for I am the very model of discretion,’ he said.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, disappointed.

  ‘But rest assured, William will soon be yours alone once more.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd, Freddy,’ she said. ‘I don’t make a habit of dallying with the servants.’

  ‘Then perhaps you ought,’ he said, wagging his eyebrows significantly. This was too much, and Angela burst out laughing.

  ‘But what about Miles?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Miles is a jolly good egg,’ said Freddy, ‘and I won’t hear a word said against him. They’re very happy, you know, the two of them. You wouldn’t think so, would you? After all, they are such different characters. And then, of course, she is rather older than he. But they understand each other. She is a woman of enthusiasms, as you well know, and he—well, he likes a quiet life. He is quite prepared to turn a blind eye to her peccadilloes provided she lets him have that. It was his idea to move to Kent, you know. London was too much for him, I believe. But Marguerite still goes up to town for her art exhibitions, and always has a protégé or two hanging about down here, so they rub along quite contentedly.’

  There was a silence as Angela absorbed this information. She was a little startled at Freddy’s perspicacity, and began to see him in a new light. She glanced at him sideways as he drove. She had always supposed him to be rather empty-headed, but she wondered whether she had not perhaps done him an injustice. Shallow and lazy he certainly was, but he seemed to be more observant than she thought.

  ‘You’re wondering now whether I won’t make rather a good reporter, aren’t you?’ he said, to her surprise. ‘I can see it.’

  ‘If you can read minds like that, then I should say you certainly shall,’ said Angela.

  ‘It’s just a knack,’ he said modestly.

  ‘I see I shall have to watch my thoughts.’

  ‘If you have no secrets, then you have nothing to fear from me,’ he said. ‘Or from anyone, in fact,’ he added.

  ‘That’s very reassuring,’ said Angela dryly.

  SEVEN

  They had now turned in through the great gates of Blakeney Park, and Angela turned her attention to their surroundings. They drove up a long avenue of trees, and finally emerged into the open, where they got their first view of the house. Blakeney was a large, stately pile built in the Jacobean style, in red brick with mullioned windows and tall chimneys. It was situated overlooking a formal garden and lake, from the centre of which sprang a magnificently florid fountain depicting an uncomfortable intertwining of nymphs, cherubs, mermaids and sea-creatures various. The grand walk up to the house was lined with statues, and an arched loggia ran along the front of the building. It was all very fine.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Freddy. ‘Watch out for fireworks!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Angela.

  ‘Why, between Lucy and Lady Alice, of course,’ he said. ‘Oh, they’re very genteel about it and put on a show of unity, but that’s only because of Gil and the estate. Everyone knows that in actual fact they can’t stand each other.’

  The car drew up before the grand entrance and they alighted. The others had already arrived and were just entering the house. Gilbert Blakeney was there to welcome them.

  ‘Hallo! Hallo! How marvellous to see you again!’ he said, greeting Angela in delight as though she were an old friend he had not seen in years, instead of a new acquaintance he had met only two days ago. Freddy received a similarly rapturous welcome, with a bone-crushing hand-shake and a clap on the shoulder. Gil was rather like an eager puppy, Angela thought. There was something very appealing about his child-like simplicity and undisguised friendliness.

  ‘Shall we go and have drinks?’ said Lucy, who was standing beside him to greet the guests. They were about to move off, when she suddenly said, ‘Oh, I almost forgot—Gil, you must speak to Hardesty about the broken fence in the bottom field. I’ve told him about it before, but yesterday the cows got through to the nursery and broke a window-pane in one of the greenhouses. It’s really too bad. You shall have to reprimand him.’

  An expression of panic passed briefly across Gil’s face.

  ‘Oh—ah—yes,’ he said. ‘You told me about it last week, didn’t you? I meant to do it, but it must have slipped from my mind somehow. I’ll do it tomorrow.’

  He looked sheepish
and apologetic, almost as though he were afraid that he was going to be made to sit in the corner and write out a hundred lines, but Lucy smiled indulgently up at him and patted his arm affectionately, and his expression changed to one of relief.

  They made an odd couple, Lucy and Gilbert: he tall, fair and loping, and she compact with brown hair and an evident firmness of purpose. Lucy was not a beauty by any means, but she had the rosy cheeks and clear skin that spoke of a life lived in the open air, and this, together with her calm, sensible manner, rendered her not unattractive. There was something rather touching about the way she took Gil gently in hand and guided him. She was already acting the part of the chatelaine of Blakeney Park, Angela noticed, even though she was not yet Gil’s wife and so did not live at the house but in Littlechurch, where she looked after the family home left to her by her parents.

  The guests were shown into a large saloon which could not have contrasted more strongly with the darkness of the panelled entrance-hall, being light and airy, with long windows that presented a delightful view over the lake and the fountain. The room was furnished elegantly and comfortably, and had clearly been in the hands of someone with an eye for such things. A tall, silent manservant held a tray of drinks, and they all took one with varying degrees of alacrity.

  ‘Mother did all this a few years ago, just before the Governor died,’ said Gil, in reply to Angela’s complimentary remarks. ‘She always took great pride in the house. She will be sorry to have to give it up. Oh, there you are, Mother. Angela was just saying how much she admires your taste.’

  The last remark was addressed to a woman who had just entered the room. This was Lady Alice. She nodded to the assembled company, then approached Gil and Angela and introduced herself to the latter. Her manner was somewhat distant but gracious enough, and Angela regarded her with discreet curiosity. Lady Alice Blakeney had evidently once been a great beauty, for there were traces of it still in her face. She was small, with dainty hands and ankles, and although a little on the plump side, still had a narrow waist which she took care to accentuate in her tailoring, even though it went against the dictates of current fashion. Her face was almost unlined and her skin was fair and so uniform in texture that Angela strongly suspected her of resorting in some measure to cosmetic preparations. She looked nothing like her son, who presumably took after his father.

  Marguerite descended on them, waving her arms and looking rather like a giant and exotic bird. She kissed Lady Alice, who looked somewhat startled.

  ‘Darlings, so kind of you to invite us all,’ said Marguerite. ‘Angela was simply dying to see Blakeney Park. Isn’t it the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen, Angela?’ She did not wait for a reply, but went on in the same breath, ‘My, but aren’t we having an exciting weekend, with all these dead bodies turning up all over the place!’

  Gil looked astonished.

  ‘Have they found another one?’ he asked.

  ‘I was exaggerating just a little, of course,’ said Marguerite. ‘No, we just have the one up to now. Lady Alice, I ought to warn you that Angela simply can’t go anywhere without falling over a dead body. She has quite a knack for it! Murderers and criminals seem to follow her about everywhere.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Lady Alice, with polite interest. ‘That must be most inconvenient, my dear.’

  Angela laughed.

  ‘I have had rather an eventful time of it lately, it’s true,’ she said, ‘but I expect it will all calm down sooner or later. It’s not as though I seek it out deliberately.’

  ‘And now we even have Scotland Yard down here,’ said Marguerite. ‘I expect they’ll want to ask us questions about what we’ve all been doing this week. I do hope you have a good alibi, Gil.’

  ‘Scotland Yard?’ said Gil blankly. ‘But whatever for? What have they to do with all this?’

  ‘I guess it’s just a matter of routine,’ said Miles, who had heard the conversation and now came over to join them. ‘But I dare say Angela will be able to tell us more about it, since she’s great pals with the inspector who came down yesterday.’

  ‘I don’t know much,’ said Angela, ‘but I think there is some uncertainty as to how the woman died.’ She said nothing about the cloak room ticket, unsure as to how much information she ought to give away and deciding to err on the side of caution.

  ‘You’ll be investigating, of course, won’t you, Angela?’ said Cynthia.

  ‘Good gracious, no!’ said Angela. ‘I’ve already told you—it’s nothing to do with me. I’ve told the police everything I know, and now they will have to make what they can of it.’

  ‘Have they found out who she was, yet?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ said Angela.

  ‘But how on earth did she get into the ditch? It’s all most odd. I simply can’t understand it. How did her face get all smashed up like that?’

  ‘Better not think about it, my dear,’ said Lady Alice. ‘The whole thing sounds most unpleasant. Perhaps one should be asking what she was doing running about the countryside alone. A woman like that is bound to get herself murdered, or worse.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any suggestion that she was alone,’ said Angela. ‘I believe the police are assuming that she came here with someone.’

  ‘Alone or not, I am certain that she was no better than she should be,’ said Lady Alice with finality, and began to talk determinedly about an exhibition of sculpture that Marguerite was planning to hold in Littlechurch. It was clear that she did not wish to pursue the subject of the dead woman, and so the conversation passed on to other things.

  At one o’clock luncheon was served and they were conducted into a large, stately dining-room. Angela found herself sitting next to Freddy, who distracted her at frequent intervals by nudging her significantly whenever anybody said something he considered to be of note.

  Herbert and Gil began to talk about shooting, while Miles put in a remark now and again. Marguerite declaimed loudly about her exhibition to anyone who would listen, while Cynthia, curious as ever, said to Lucy:

  ‘And so next year is the wedding! You must be looking forward to it very much. When is it, exactly?’

  ‘It’s to be in August,’ said Lucy. ‘The engagement was announced in the Times last July.’

  ‘August! And then Blakeney Park will be all yours! How marvellous!’ said Cynthia, with her usual lack of tact.

  Freddy nudged Angela so hard that she almost spilt her soup, and nodded surreptitiously towards Lady Alice, who wore a furious expression.

  ‘And shall you take a honeymoon?’ went on Cynthia. ‘I understand Italy is supposed to be delightful. The Knowleses went to Venice last year after their wedding—you remember them, don’t you, Freddy?’

  ‘Oh, certainly,’ replied Freddy. ‘As a matter of fact I spoke to Rupert only a week or two ago. He was rather down, I must say, although he is convinced that the separation is just a temporary fancy on Diana’s part.’

  Cynthia glared at her son, and Angela looked hard at her soup as she fought the urge to laugh.

  ‘No, I don’t think we shall have time to go away,’ said Lucy. ‘August is a busy time on the estate and we shall probably be needed to see to things.’

  ‘Oh, I am sure the Park can manage without you both for a week or two,’ said Lady Alice. ‘As a matter of fact, I am almost certain that Gilbert has been away at that time of year many times before. And I shall still be here. I can take care of it all quite well.’

  ‘But they will be making the hay then,’ said Lucy, ‘and I—Gil was planning to start work on having the boundary fences repaired, weren’t you, Gil? They’ve needed it for such a long time.’

  Gilbert looked up in alarm at the mention of his name.

  ‘But that can be done at any time,’ said Lady Alice, and there was a steely note in her voice. ‘Why, if you start earlier it can even be finished by the time of the wedding.’

  Freddy was nudging Angela so often that in deference to her frock
she quite gave up any attempt to finish her soup.

  ‘Well, perhaps we shall think about it,’ said Lucy reluctantly.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Gil, who had evidently not been listening fully to their conversation. ‘I should like to go away after the wedding, shouldn’t you, Lucy?’

  Lucy smiled tightly and tacitly admitted defeat on this occasion. Angela wondered which of the two women came out on top most often. It looked as though Lady Alice had the upper hand at present, although once Gil and Lucy were married it was inevitable that her influence would wane. It was clear that Gil would be caught in the middle of the two of them. Would they be able to forget their differences and rub along together for Gil’s sake, or would the enmity continue after the marriage? Odd that the engagement had apparently been Lady Alice’s idea. Angela wondered very much how it would all turn out.

  EIGHT

  Sergeant Willis entered the room and dumped a battered suitcase on his superior’s desk.

  ‘Here we are, sir,’ he said. ‘One suitcase, retrieved from Charing Cross cloak room, as instructed. It was left on Wednesday.’

  Jameson pushed aside his report, which was nearly finished and this time contained the correct names, and stood up.

  ‘So that’s where our mystery woman left her belongings,’ he said. ‘Still no handbag though, I take it.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Have you heard from the Littlechurch police yet? Do you know whether they’ve had any luck in finding a trace of her at the stations?’

  ‘I spoke to them this morning, sir. They’ve had no luck yet. Nobody remembers seeing the woman at all, either by herself or with a man.’

  ‘Hmm, that’s hardly conclusive, at any rate,’ said Jameson. ‘Just because no-one saw her doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. Now, since you say her belongings were left in the cloak room on Wednesday, I think we can assume she went there on that day, left her suitcase and then got on a train shortly afterwards—unless, that is, our murderer is more subtle than we have given him credit for, and left her things there himself and put the ticket in her hat. That doesn’t seem very likely, however. The train down to—where, though? Ashford or Hastings? Or somewhere smaller, perhaps. Appledore?’