by Rhys Bowen
I let myself into my room with a sigh of relief. Even in the darkness I could see the bed turned back and no sign of Darcy.
“Darcy?” I whispered. He must have heard Siegfried’s voice outside the door and decided to hide, just in case. I tiptoed around, lifting up drapes, peeping under the bed. “It’s all right, you can come out now,” I said. Still he didn’t appear. I glanced over at that chest. I certainly wasn’t about to open that. But I did open the wardrobe and peer inside. It was big enough to hide several men.
“Are you in there?” I asked.
“Who are you talking to?” A voice right behind me made me spin around, heart thumping.
Darcy was standing there.
“I was looking for you,” I said. “Don’t do that again. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“I heard the commotion and decided I better take a look for myself,” he said. “As usual that fool Patrascue was making a balls-up of things. Go back to bed, you’re freezing.”
I got into bed and he followed. I put my head on his shoulder. It felt wonderfully comforting and safe. This is what I want and need, I remember thinking. If only . . . I suppose I must have fallen asleep because the sound of screams at first seemed to be part of my dream. Only gradually I came to the surface and realized that they were part of the real world. Darcy was already standing up.
“What now?” he demanded. “Can’t a fellow get a decent night’s sleep in this place?”
“I’ll go,” I said. “It’s probably another of Patrascue’s men frightening the maids by walking around in a suit of armor.”
Darcy laughed. “Quite possibly. I’ll stay put for now. I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”
Siegfried was standing at his door again. “I must apologize, mein Schatz. Two ridiculous disturbances in one night is unforgivable. I will demand that this man Patrascue take his underlings and leave our castle immediately.” He strode down the hallway with me in tow. This time we went down the first flight of stairs and met nobody. Other guests in night attire were standing at their doors along the second hallway as the screaming continued, coming up from down below.
“Some hysterical maid,” my mother said as I passed her. “Probably had to fight off the footman. Happens all the time.”
We came under a low archway and found ourselves at the top of that final flight of steps above the entrance hall—those alarming steps that hugged the wall with no kind of banister. A group was already assembled at the bottom. One of them was indeed a maid, now sobbing instead of screaming while other servants attempted to comfort her. Beside her was a spilled scuttle of coal. The rest of the group was standing around something on the floor.
“What is it?” Siegfried called, his voice echoing through the high-ceilinged hall. “Why are we being subjected to this noise?”
The group broke apart. A couple of maids curtsied. Dragomir stepped forward. “Highness, there has been a tragedy,” he said. “The English lady. She must have fallen from a great height. There is nothing to be done.”
And there at the bottom of the steps lay the body of Miss Deer-Harte, her head at an unnatural angle. I had seen death before but the heightened tension of the past few days brought bile up into my throat. My head started to sing and for a second I thought I was going to faint. I leaned against the cold stone of the wall and inched my way down the stairs before I could pass out and join Miss Deer-Harte on the flagstones below.
“Someone should let Lady Middlesex know,” I said, trying to master myself. “This lady was her companion.”
“Poor woman,” Siegfried said, eyeing the body with distaste. “I wonder what she was doing wandering around down here in the middle of the night?”
“Maybe the commotion from Patrascue’s men upset her and she was coming down for a hot drink or a cognac,” Dragomir said. “Or maybe she was sleepwalking. Who knows. It is unfortunate that such a thing should happen.”
There was a certain smoothness to his voice that made me look at him sharply. I knew very well why Miss Deer-Harte had been wandering around. Had she actually spotted the man she was seeking this time, and been foolish enough to follow him? And was it possible that Dragomir was somehow involved? I wanted to get back to my room to tell Darcy what had happened, but perhaps my first duty should be to break the news to Lady Middlesex.
We heard her long before we saw her. “What is this nonsense now? Why am I being dragged out of bed at this godforsaken hour?” Her voice echoed down the hallway. She came out to the top of the steps. “What do I care if some other stupid foreigner has fallen and—” She broke off, her face rigid with horror.
“Deer-Harte?” she gasped. “No. No, it can’t be.” And she pushed her way down to the bottom of the stairs until she was standing over the body. “Oh.” She put her hand up to her mouth and a great gulping sob came out. I went over to her and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t the sort of person one would think of embracing. She continued to stare down at her friend, her body heaving with convulsive sobs. I was as shocked as everyone else. It wasn’t the reaction I had expected of her over someone I thought she considered a rather annoying companion.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “It’s a horrible thing to have happened.”
She nodded, fighting to compose herself. “Poor silly woman. Always imagining she saw danger and intrigue everywhere we went. She said she was going to keep her eyes and ears open.”
“Yes, she must have been prowling around and fallen. Those stairs always struck me as awfully dangerous.” I didn’t say what I was thinking—that she hadn’t fallen at all. She had been pushed.
“Come, my Lady Middlesex.” Count Dragomir took over. “There is nothing you can do here. Let me escort you back to your room and have some cognac and hot milk sent up to you.”
“It’s all right. I’ll take her,” I said. “I know you have plenty to do down here.”
I had to half drag Lady Middlesex back up those horrible stairs. She staggered up like a person in a trance. But by the time we reached her room she had regained her stiff upper lip.
“So good of you,” she muttered. “Bit of a shock, isn’t it? Don’t know what I’ll do without her, actually. Grown used to having her around.”
I assisted her into her room and over to her bed.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep again,” she said. “I must make arrangements somehow to have her body taken home. She wouldn’t want to be buried on foreign soil. She hated it abroad, poor thing. She only came with me out of extreme devotion. I should never have expected it of her . . . it was wrong of me.” And she rooted around for a handkerchief, which she pressed to her face.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” I asked.
“No, I’d rather be alone, thank you,” she said stiffly.
“Send one of the servants for me if you need me, then,” I said.
She nodded. As I reached the door she said in a flat voice, “She sensed it, didn’t she? The moment we arrived she called it a house of death. But she never realized it was her own death that she was sensing.”
I closed the door behind me and hurried back through the halls to my room. Again Darcy was nowhere to be seen. I slipped into the bed, still warm with his presence, and lay there, thinking how comfortable and secure it had felt to lie in his arms. Then an image swam into my mind of Siegfried lying in bed beside me. No! I wanted to yell. I just wanted to be away from this horrible place and to feel safe again. Because something had struck me on the way back through the hallways. If Miss Deer-Harte had been killed because she had spotted the murderer and could identify him, then I was also in similar danger.
I lay awake, staring at the dark canopy of the bed over me, trying to make sense of things.
Someone creeping into my room, bending over my bed. The portrait on the wall being changed. Matty with blood around her mouth. Pirin drinking from a glass intended for Nicholas. And now Miss Deer-Harte lying dead. What did they mean? What linked them together if
I was trying to be rational and not believe that I was in a place inhabited by vampires? But I couldn’t come up with a rational answer. In fact I didn’t like the only answer that kept coming back to me—what if the young man we had seen was a vampire who haunted this castle and now Matty, Dragomir and God knows how many of the servants were under his spell. That would account for nobody else except for Miss Deer-Harte noticing him as he stood in the archway and watched the banquet. I knew this theory sounded ridiculous, but up in Scotland you’d meet plenty of people who swore that they had seen fairies, and we had a couple of ghosts at Castle Rannoch. So who was to say that vampires didn’t exist?
Eventually I suppose I must have dozed, because when I opened my eyes slanted sunlight was shining on that hideous portrait on the far wall. I was lying alone in the enormous bed and there was still no sign of Darcy. I got up, washed and dressed, then went down to breakfast. The breakfast room was full of people, chatting amiably as they ate. Nobody seemed to know or care about last night’s tragedy, but then to them she was only a companion who had lost her footing and fallen. Only Lady Middlesex was not present.
Nicholas smiled at me as I poured myself some coffee. “Lovely bright sunshine for a change. Good day for hunting, I think, if the snow is not too deep.”
“My bridesmaids can’t come, so don’t try to entice them,” Matty said. “It’s our final dress fitting this morning.”
“I wouldn’t dream of luring young ladies away from their dress fitting,” Nicholas said. “I want you all to look your beautiful and radiant best on the big day.”
I happened to be looking at Matty’s face. I saw the briefest flash of annoyance or panic before she smiled. “Of course we will all be radiant and beautiful, my dear Nicholas. We must look our best for the big day.”
I continued to watch her as she took a nibble of toast. Something he had said had made her upset or angry. And now I studied her, I thought she looked terrible—white and drawn, with bags under her eyes. Not at all the radiant bride-to-be. She was now playing with the rest of her slice of toast, crumbling it into tiny pieces, before she pushed the plate away from her, got up and left. I got the sense that she was under a good deal of strain. So why would that be? I found an interesting train of thoughts creeping into my head. My grandfather, the former policeman, had always quoted his superior officer, an inspector he greatly admired, as saying, “Go for the obvious and then work out from there. Nine times out of ten the answer is right under your nose.”
So when it came to ease of putting poison into Nicholas’s glass, then Matty and Dragomir would be the two people who could have done it most easily. Until now I had dismissed Matty as the bride. Why would she want to kill her future husband? But now, as I continued to observe her, I recalled that her gaiety had seemed forced at times. She had been playing the part of the happy bride-to-be and yet she had made remarks about Nicholas being a good choice, if one had to get married. She had talked about how she would rather have stayed on in Paris. What if she had decided to take the ultimate way out of this marriage by poisoning her bridegroom?
I decided that it was about time I tackled her and got the truth out of her. I’d find an opportunity this morning during our dress fitting. After all, I’d be perfectly safe in a room full of young women and Darcy was somewhere in the castle. But just in case there was some truth to this vampire stuff, shouldn’t I be prepared? I stood looking at the spread of breakfast dishes. Some of those cold meats had plenty of garlic in them, judging by the smell of them. Did that count as a defense against vampires, or did one need the actual cloves? I could hardly go down to the kitchen and ask for cloves of garlic, so I loaded up my plate with various slices of sausage. It wasn’t exactly my choice of breakfast but I got through them. Afterward even I could smell the garlic on my breath—I only hoped any potential vampires could too. Now, if I could just find a small cross somewhere in the castle and slip it into my pocket . . .
As I got up to leave Nicholas was standing at the doorway, speaking with his father. His face was grim. There was a brief exchange and his father strode off down the hallway. Nicholas saw me and gave a grimace.
“The old man is making a fuss about Pirin,” he said. “He wanted to know when the telephone wires will be repaired. He needs to know how Pirin is doing, whether he has reached the hospital safely and whether his physician is on his way from Sofia. He was demanding that a car be sent to find out. I kept telling him that it had snowed again and the pass would be closed, but he’s not taking no for an answer. This could prove extremely tricky. I wonder where Darcy is.”
I was tempted to tell him that Darcy was in the castle, but decided to leave that decision up to Darcy himself when he reappeared. I couldn’t think what he might be doing, but I was sure it was important.
“Your bride is beginning to show the strain of the unfortunate events,” I said.
“Yes, she’s very sensitive,” Nicholas said. “Another death last night. I wish to God I hadn’t given in to Maria and agreed to hold the ceremony at this castle. It would have been so much more agreeable at the palace.”
As I left him, I spotted Count Dragomir, hurrying ahead of me. I called his name and he turned, reluctantly.
“I was wondering if you had any news about my maid yet,” I said. “I am extremely worried.”
“I am sorry, Highness. I have had no news,” he said. “But don’t worry, my people will keep searching for her.”
“She can’t have disappeared,” I said. “I want an out-and-out effort today to look for her, or I’ll have to ask Mr. Patrascue to put his men on the job.”
It was a good threat. I saw a look of alarm in his eyes. “Mr. Patrascue could not find his own nose if it were not attached to his body,” he said. “I have promised we will find her and we will.”
Then he hurried off, his cape flying out behind him. I wandered down the hallways, looking for a suitable cross, but could only come up with a six-foot-tall crucifix in a niche. I could hardly carry that around with me. I also spotted a cross around the neck of one of the servants, but she spoke no English and I couldn’t make her understand that I only wanted to borrow it. So in the end I had no choice but to make my way to the small salon and our dress fitting. A small voice in my head whispered that I was being silly to be afraid of a school friend, but I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Some of the other bridal attendants were already in the small salon, talking together in German in a tight little group. They glanced up guiltily as I entered and I was sure they had been talking about me. Sure enough Hannelore called out to me, “We were talking of your betrothal to Prince Siegfried. We are not very happy for you. We feel perhaps you may not know the truth about him. You should find out about this Siegfried before you agree to marry him.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I will take your advice.”
She drew me closer to her. “We hear that his interest is not in women, you understand? He will not make you satisfied in the bed.”
What should I say, that I had no intention of marrying him? Her concern was genuine and touching. “Thank you,” I said. “I won’t rush into anything, I promise.”
“And if you think it is nice to be a princess,” Hannelore continued, “it is not so much fun. Always duty, duty, duty.”
The other girls who understood English nodded agreement. At that moment Matty came into the room.
“So are we ready to look divine?” she asked brightly. She had made up her face with bright circles on her cheeks and red lips. The fittings started. Our dresses were almost finished and it was only a case of a final nip and tuck to make sure they hung perfectly. To go over each dress was a floor-length white fur-lined cloak—one of the most heavenly things I had ever seen. When we tried them on we looked like snow queens. My own fitting was finished but I hung around by the fire, waiting for a moment to catch Matty alone. She was certainly acting in a bright and animated way, laughing and giggling with the other girls, making me wonder if perhaps it migh
t be drugs and not being a vampire that accounted for her mood swings.
At last she came over to the fire and held out her hands to warm them.
“It’s freezing in this place, isn’t it?” she said. “Reminds me of school. Remember how cold it used to be in the dormitories?”
“That was usually because Belinda had left the window open to climb out at night and visit her ski instructor,” I said, smiling at the memory. I came to stand beside her and decided to take the plunge. “Matty, you and I need to talk.”
She reeled a little from the amount of garlic on my breath, but she didn’t collapse, run off or melt away as any good vampire should have done in the presence of garlic. “What about? Something is wrong?” The smile faded from her face.
I looked around the salon. Everyone seemed to be occupied. “I know,” I said in a low voice. “I know the truth.”
She looked startled, then she shrugged. “Of course you do. He was silly enough to come into your room by mistake, and I was foolish enough to forget about his picture on your wall. He painted that picture for me, you know. He’s a brilliant artist. He always had talent, even as a small boy.”
As she talked she slipped her arm through mine and steered me away from the other girls and the clatter of sewing machines. At first I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, but gradually light began to dawn. She’d dropped enough hints that she didn’t love Nicholas, that she’d wanted to stay in Paris. So she’d fallen in love with another man. But the phrase about the small boy was baffling.
“You knew him when he was a boy?”
“Of course,” she said. “He grew up in this castle.”
“In this castle?”
She nodded. “His father works for us. We played together when I came here in the summers. We were always such good friends as children. And then I was sent to Paris and I found he was there too, studying art. This time we fell in love—wonderful, passionate love. Then my father informed me that I must marry Nicholas. I begged him to change his mind, but he wouldn’t listen. A princess always puts duty first, he said. I told him I loved someone else but he forbade me to see him again.” She reached out and covered my hand with her cold one. “In the end one does one’s duty. Just like you and Siegfried. I’m sure you don’t love him. You can’t love him. But you do what the family expects of you.”
