A Death in the Wedding Party

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘Er,’ the medic blinked at me. ‘Pretty floral thing on its side with a smashed saucer?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. Did you happen to notice if it was full or empty?’

  The doctor scratched his head and some of his scalp came away with his fingernails. He picked it out thoughtfully. ‘Empty, yes.’

  ‘And was there a corresponding stain on the carpet?’ I asked.

  ‘Just a mo,’ he said and ducked back into the room. Coming back out, ‘I see what you mean. Have the police been called?’ Obviously, apart from his unsavoury penchant for dead flesh, he knew mysterious circumstances when he saw them. He went up a notch in my estimation. Which still kept him at well below zero.

  ‘This is an Earl’s seat,’ thundered Richard, ‘we can’t have grubby-faced constables running riot though it. It’s not done.’

  The doctor slid his glasses once more up his nose. ‘Why don’t we go and ask the Earl?’ he said. Rory locked the door and dropped the key in his pocket.

  Ratty found himself confronted in the morning room by four people who all wanted something quite different from him. Richard blustered. The doctor warned him. I wanted the thing handled properly and Rory wanted permission to head back below stairs. Despite his early morning snifters with my grandfather I observed the Earl’s gaze kept slipping longingly towards the decanter, now back in its tantalus. The Earl drew his face into its craggiest wrinkles and said, ‘Where’s my wife?’

  Rory leapt at this opportunity to get away from the limelight and went in search of the Countess. ‘I think you should come with me, doctor,’ he said. ‘You were going to give Miss Richenda a wee drop of something to calm her down.’

  ‘Oh yes. Yes, indeed,’ said Threep. ‘Don’t worry, Earl. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  When the door had shut behind them the Earl sat down. ‘Pour us all a drink, will you Richard? Now the riff-raff’s gone we can discuss this thing properly.’

  Knowing when he was outgunned, Richard did as he was bid, even going as far as to pour me a very, very, very small Scotch. Fortunately I have no liking for Scotch – the liquid kind at least. We all sat down around the fire. ‘Hopefully,’ said Ratty, ‘me wife will come back and tell us a few of the others had a gippy tummy last night, and then we can put it down to an acute sensitivity and unfortunate accident for Lady Stapleford.’

  ‘Glad to hear that, sir,’ said Richard.

  Ratty frowned even harder. ‘I don’t mind admitting the food last night was particularly poor. Cook must have been out of sorts about something. But if we end up blaming the poor lady’s demise on her cooking I can tell you this household is in for a devil of time. Do you know how hard it is to get decent staff?’

  ‘Very hard,’ I chipped in. ‘And we certainly wouldn’t want the woman to carry a death on her conscience if in fact it was nothing to do with her.’

  The Earl looked at me as if I was a pot plant that had just spoken. ‘Er, yes, my dear, quite.’

  ‘I don’t care about some servant’s blasted feelings, saving your presence, sir. I do care very much about some country doctor mauling about the body of my dead stepmother. By Gad, it’s not to be thought of!’

  The Earl looked him steadily in the eye, ‘But you must see, my good fellow, that losing a cook is a very serious business.’ Richard shot to his feet and opened his mouth, but what blistering retort he had in mind we never heard as at this moment the Countess entered the room with Rory and the doctor following behind like ducklings with their mother. She came over and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. ‘No, dear, you mustn’t upset yourself, it’s not good for your heart.’ Rory and the doctor followed her into the room. The Countess turned a surprisingly stony countenance towards us all. ‘I have spoken with Mrs Merion, Cook and all the relevant servants. I can confirm there was a few mild cases of indigestion due to Cook falling below par last night. She had heard her nephew Tommy is up for poaching again.’ She patted the Earl’s shoulder. ‘I told her that you would sort it all out. Thank goodness the under-cook was on hand to deliver breakfast! Good enough girl in her way, but not a patch on Cook when she’s running to form. Should have her up and trotting for lunch today!’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ said the Earl.

  ‘I have also,’ continued the Countess, ‘spoken to Mrs Merion. She had some fears over our oyster suppliers. I can assume these were unfounded as no one else suffered any symptoms similar to the late Lady Stapleford.’

  ‘An allergy,’ said Richard Stapleford.

  ‘The cadaver does not present with signs that would suggest that was the cause of death,’ said Threep. Richard gave him a filthy look, but the doctor stood his ground and pushed his spectacles back up his nose with an almost defiant air.

  ‘Sadly, my dear, I fear we must inform the police we have an unexplained death. Isn’t Ronnie something to do with a police board or some such thing. Perhaps he could get us an amiable, cleverish sort of chap, who could tie this all up quickly?’

  ‘Is that really necessary,’ said Ratty. ‘We’re not really the sort that answer to, er – to that sort, are we?’

  ‘The problem,’ said Countess forestalling another outburst from Richard, ‘ is that we have Royalty present. Foreign Royalty.’ There was a weighty pause. Now was the time for Richard or I to disclose our deception. Our eyes met. I saw a challenge in his. If I gave myself up I would not be able to count on his support. I lowered my eyes, ashamed of myself. The Countess continued to speak. ‘This could be blown up into quite a diplomatic incident if we’re not careful. I’ve ordered the house gates to be closed, but we cannot trust the lower staff not to gossip or worse still attempt to sell the story to a, ‘ she swallowed and pronounced the next word with obvious distaste, ‘a newspaper man.’

  ‘Oh, by Gad, no!’ said the Earl. ‘This family has never had a scandal and we’re not having one now!’

  The Countess raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he said. We’ve never had outsiders involved in our business.’

  ‘That’s why I suggest we get someone calm and discreet to tie this all up.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said Ratty. ‘Brainy one, my wife.’

  ‘And the body?’ said Threep. His nose positively twitched with excitement making his glasses do a funny sort of jig.

  ‘I have had it removed to one of our cold stores. I’ve called for someone from the village to lay her out formally.’

  ‘But the police need to see the body at the scene of the crime,’ I said.

  The Countess turned flinty eyes on me. ‘Those were some of my very best sheets. They are being boiled at this minute.’ She took a breath. ‘Not that I would want to appear obstructive. I will order that Lady Stapleford’s clothes are preserved in their current state and that apart from the bed the room will be left as it was found. If there is any further evidence I assume it will mainly be in the body of the deceased. Am I right, doctor?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Threep. ‘I have the perfect facilities.’

  Richard roared in fury. ‘Stop that at once, young man. You will behave as a gentleman in the presence of ladies,’ said the Countess. Richard reddened. ‘I personally would prefer that Lady Stapleford had a quick and decent burial and we could all move on to a happier event. Hopefully my husband will be able to find a policeman who thinks in the same way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Richard. ‘I shall inform her son.’

  ‘I expect he would like to see her. The village women are quite adapt in the way of things and I should imagine he could safely say his farewells in around an hour without being unduly disturbed by her appearance.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ I said.

  The Countess looked shocked. ‘My dear, you are royalty. You should have nothing to do with this or anything else. Perhaps if you could all retire to your rooms and attempt to persuade any of the other guests to do the same. We could all spend a little time in reflection on the ephemeral nature of life. Hopefully by the
time luncheon is served the police will have come and gone.’

  So it was to be a white-wash. Rory opened the door for me. I could see he wasn’t happy about any of this either, but I could hardly discuss the matter with him. As I left the room I heard a snatch of whispered conversation between the Earl and his wife. ‘These young people. They don’t understand the importance of keeping a decent cook,’ said Ratty. ‘Or of decent linen,’ said the Countess with deep distain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Waiting for the Police

  I returned to my room as I had been requested only to find Merry waiting for me. ‘So! So!’ she cried as I entered the room, bouncing up from her chair like an excitable puppy. ‘What’s going to happen?’ I told her the full extent of the conversation in the morning room.

  ‘A white-wash,’ said Merry, unknowingly echoing my own thoughts.

  ‘He could be a decent policeman,’ I said.

  ‘Please,’ said Merry, ‘there is two Earls present and one Countess, not to mention Your Highness’s royal self. There is no way he’d want to make trouble.’

  ‘Then we need to present him with uncontroversial proof,’ I said stoutly.

  ‘What you need is to watch your back,’ said Merry. ‘Ain’t it occurred to you that if the police find out who you really are then you’ll be in a heap of trouble. The Stapleford’s won’t back you up. They will say they were hoodwinked too.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t add up!’

  Merry screwed up her face.

  ‘Merry! Are you feeling quite well?’

  ‘’Ang on, I’m thinking.’ The scowl faded. ‘Yep, reckon you’re right it wouldn’t add up. The only thing they could do to be sure would be to off you too.’

  ‘What? Then my identity would definitely come out!’

  Merry nodded slowly. ‘True. But what if they made look as if you had killed yourself? Made it out you were so afraid of being caught out that …’

  ‘Merry, what on earth is giving you such ideas?’

  ‘See when you’re in your bed late tonight. You think about my words and see if they don’t make sense then.’

  ‘Who do you think did it?’ I asked trying to turn Merry’s mind to less ghoulish fantasies.

  ‘Richenda, Richard, Tipton or Bertram.’

  ‘Bertram!’ I said astounded.

  ‘Before I met you I didn’t know nothing about murdering, but if there’s anything these past two years have shown me, it’s that you never can tell who will do what and why.’

  ‘ It would have to be someone who knew her, wouldn’t it?’ I said. ‘Both the Earls, the Countess and Renard Layfette knew her. In fact she hated Renard Layfette and wouldn’t even allow his name to be mentioned in her presence. There’s a history there.’

  ‘And ’ow are you going to find about it?’

  ‘I’m going to ask him.’

  Merry sighed. ‘I guess I’m going to have to watch out for you, aren’t I? Seeing as how you’re set on getting yourself into a whole heap of trouble. I don’t know what my Merrit’s going to say about it all. I really don’t.’

  ‘Could you find out who delivered the late night drink to her room? The little maid who makes my fire in the morning, Daisy, said it was a Lucy who’s meant to do the drinks, but she’s a bit shy and can leave them outside the room instead of knocking.’

  ‘Which would give someone the perfect opportunity to drop something in it,’ said Merry thoughtfully. ‘I’ve seen Daisy. Strikes me she could be a right little chatterbox if you let her.’

  I nodded. ‘Right. I’ll start with her. But it does beg a question. Did someone intend to poison Lady Stapleford right the way along, so they had the poison on hand or was it a spur of the moment thing?’

  ‘The only way we’ll know that,’ I said, ‘is when or if we find out what poisoned her.’

  Merry nodded. ‘Yeah, any big house like this is a poisoner’s delight from rat poison to the stuff they clean the silver with – and that’s not mentioning any of the stuff the gardeners use.’

  ‘So once we know what it is … I’ll have to make that doctor tell me … We’re be able to work out who had the opportunity to get the poison.’

  ‘Right then, you set to charming the police and that doctor and I’ll start with a little chat with our Daisy.’

  When Merry had gone I sat down to think. I couldn’t very well ignore the Countess’s request that we spent the time between now and luncheon thinking about the deceased. I thought mainly of how I would like to write my thoughts down, so I could untangle the warring ideas in my head. However, although I intended to do this later at my leisure the chances of an inquisitive maid coming across my notes was too great a risk. But then again not all maids could read. Daisy would probably use it for kindling. I turned things round and round in my head. It simply didn’t make sense that the Staplefords were involved in this. As far as I knew Lady Stapleford had been all for the wedding. I believed she had intended to use the opportunity to launch herself back into society and find herself a new husband. Heavens, my grandfather could even have been one of her targets. This did not bear thinking about. The luncheon bell sounded. (A gong for dinner. A bell for luncheon. I wondered if this was to ensure guests who spent all their time inebriated would be able to tell which was which.)

  I headed downstairs only to be informed by Robbins that luncheon had been laid out buffet style in the garden room. ‘The doors are open onto the terrace, your Highness,’ he said. ‘I believe you will not find the prospect unpleasing.’ I thanked him politely, mentally noting yet again that it was the staff who not only behaved better, but often spoke better than their supposed ‘betters’.

  Silver cutlery flashed and crystal twinkled on the well-laden table. Before me lay a feast that even Mrs Deighton would have found hard to beat. My stomach growled in a most unladylike manner at the sight of real food after last night’s debacle. I picked up a plate and began to happily serve myself. Other guests milled around me, but for the first few minutes the glorious food held my attention. Quails eggs! Buttered lobster! Asparagus spears in a hollandaise sauce, so light and creamy it positively caressed my tongue. Delighted with my spoils, I tucked in with gusto. I was sucking the meat from a heavenly lobster tail when I became aware someone had sat down beside me.

  ‘You are very brave,’ said Renard Layfette’s voice, ‘or is it merely what the English call ‘having phlegm’?’

  I took the lobster from between my lips. It made an most unfortunate sound. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, trying to brazen my blushes out.

  ‘Why, that someone has died of poisoning in this house after eating the food.’

  I looked down at my half-consumed plate and felt suddenly less hungry. ‘What did you think I meant?’ continued Layfette. ‘Is there another secret that you are keeping?’

  ‘I understand you and Lady Stapleford were at odds,’ I challenged in an attempt to distract him.

  Renard gave a Gallic shrug. ‘Me, I say live and let live. Lady Stapleford held other views.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She disapproved of my lifestyle.’

  I waited for him to say more. This was a man who loved attention and the sound of his own voice.

  ‘It is an old story. I was a little wild in my youth. All the most interesting people are, I find, don’t you? But you are still young. Maybe there is time yet left for you to be – interesting.’

  I could not think of an answer to this, so I remained silent. However, I did feel insulted. Layfette gave a little laugh. ‘Forgive. I am surprised to find it still rankles. My father disowned me. He is, of course, dead now. Whole swathes of society set their face against me. Yet here I am, so many years later, dining at the table of an Earl. In the end I am the survivor, the winner.’

  ‘And how did Lady Stapleford feel about your presence here?’

  ‘I have no idea. I did not talk to her. I expect she was not happy. But what could she say? Her husband is dead and she is poor now an
d of no account.’

  ‘Especially because she is dead,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Tant pis!’ said Renard. ‘Life must go on. I shall leave you to enjoy your lobster in peace.’

  All at once I felt very vulnerable and out of my depth. I left my plate half-finished, declined anything sweet and left the room. Conversation buzzed behind me, but I told myself continuing to ask questions in a crowded room would only draw attention. As I wandered into the hallway I made a discovery. I had nothing to do. Without the consolidating focus of the wedding rehearsals all the guests were left high and dry. Some of the men might retire to smoke, drink whisky and play cards, but for the ladies there was only tea and cake – and we had only just had luncheon. If I had been at home at Stapleford Hall – how strange to think of it as home – I would be overloaded with tasks. I missed being busy. I could not imagine how the Earl and his cronies made their way so aimlessly through life. A life my mother had always wanted for me, but I was now quite certain I would never want for myself.

  A tap on my shoulder made me jump. Lord Milford, also known as Fitzroy, stood beside me. ‘If I could ask Your Highness to accompany me to the small library for a moment?’ he asked with extreme politeness.

  I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Of course, here was the very man to sort out all this nastiness. I gave him what I hoped was a stunning smile and nodded.

  The small library was in a corner turret room and was indeed deficient in space. However, it had large windows that gave out over the wild flower garden and fountain. I imagined many an Earl or Viscount had whiled away hours in here ‘reading’ while staring out of the window at the heavenly view.

  ‘I am so glad to see you,’ I said as Fitzroy closed the door.

  ‘How very flattering,’ he said. He came across to the table and opened a small folder. ‘I hope you are not foolish enough to think I will let myself get embroiled in this fiasco?’

  ‘Fiasco! The woman was murdered?’

  ‘Was she?’ asked Fitzroy levelly. ‘I don’t believe there has been anything more than conjecture at present. Your conjecture. Personally, when working under an alias I consider it wise to remain as inconspicuous as possible.’