Death of a Blue Blood

by 1 Donald Bain

  “Does Kip have any other tangible plans for helping bring financial stability to Castorbrook?” George asked.

  “Not Kip exactly,” Colin replied. “But Poppy, Kip’s wife, has some splendid ideas.”

  “I think that’s exactly what Castorbrook Castle needs,” I said, “fresh young blood bursting with ideas.”

  “Glad you agree,” Colin said, retaking his seat at the table. “And I assure you that you and Chief Inspector Sutherland will always have the best of rooms whenever you decide to visit again.”

  I wasn’t as convinced that we’d be so welcomed in the future, but I didn’t want to contradict Colin so early in his days as an official member of the Grant family. Instead, I asked him, “Has any decision been made about selling the castle and grounds to a hotel chain?”

  “I believe that’s been put off for the time being,” Colin said. “Kip and Poppy are determined to keep Castorbrook in the family, and I’ll do anything I can to help bring that about. After all, I now have an official stake in the future of Castorbrook Castle.”

  Emmie, beaming, gave him a hug.

  “I imagine that will be a mixed blessing for the Dowager Countess of Norrance,” George whispered to me.

  Colin overheard him. “The eldest Lady Norrance is not ready for me to call her ‘Grandmother’ yet, but she came in while we were meeting and lectured Kip on how he’d better live up to his father’s reputation. I’m not sure that’s the wisest of advice, but it’s nice that she remembers her son that way,” he said.

  “What will Rupert and his wife, Adela, contribute?” I asked.

  “Kip said that Rupert has dreams of turning Castorbrook into a world-class film studio, and he will be moving to London to seek financing,” Colin said as dessert, orange trifle, was served. “Adela wants to stay at the castle and open a spa. They’re both great ideas, don’t you think?”

  George and I lingered in front of the fireplace after the others had left.

  “Turned out to be quite a New Year’s celebration, didn’t it, lass?”

  “It’s one that I’ll certainly never forget,” I said.

  “It seems we’ve spent what was to be a joyous holiday together tracking down a murderer, much the way it was when we first met during the Ainsworth investigation.”

  “And here we are together in this charming inn after all those years.”

  “That says something about how we get along, doesn’t it, Jessica? We should spend more time together, a lot more time.”

  “Maybe one day,” I said, aware of where the conversation was leading.

  “Yes, maybe one day,” he said.

  * * *

  As promised, George and I stopped at the castle on our way to London where I would catch a plane back to the States. There was a meld of mourning and optimism in the air as the earl’s children, including Colin, bade us farewell.

  I sympathized with them, but they appeared to have discovered inner resources for handling the death of their father, and the incarceration of their mother. Was it the British stiff upper lip at play, or was it that they had been roughly forced into adulthood and realized that more was expected of them?

  “Quite a melodramatic situation,” Rupert said to me. “Adela said I should write about it—that it would help me cope with all the emotions. I’m thinking she may be right. It would make quite a thrilling screenplay—don’t you agree?”

  As Ralph slowly pulled away from the castle, I glanced back and saw Honora standing in an upstairs window, looking as formidable as ever. I hoped that she would live many more years; the children of Lord and Lady Norrance would benefit from learning her no-nonsense approach to life.

  * * *

  We stopped by Chipping Minster Antiques so I could say good-bye to Hazel.

  “I have the perfect souvenir for you,” she said. “It just came in. I put it aside so no one else would get it first.” She set a box in front of me.

  What was inside the box was swathed in tissue paper. I unwrapped it carefully and pulled out a porcelain figure of a foal and mare.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” Hazel said.

  “Just beautiful,” I said, and gave her a quick hug. “Look, George. It’s Lamia and her colt, Good Fortune.”

  I tried to pay Hazel, but she insisted that the horses were a gift. “I’ll never forget what you did for Emmie and Colin,” she said. “And I’m sure Flavia, wherever she is, is grateful, too.”

  A few days later Ralph drove us to Heathrow Airport, getting me there in plenty of time for my flight to Boston, where Jed Richardson, who runs a charter air service in Cabot Cove, would meet me and fly me home.

  “Is there anyplace we can rendezvous in the future where a murder isn’t likely to take place?” George asked as we prepared to say good-bye once again.

  I had to laugh. I was wondering the same thing. “I’m sure that we can come up with a place,” I said.

  “Promise you’ll work on it, lass?”

  “Yes, I promise, if only to hear you call me ‘lass’ again.”

  “I’d be happy to do that for the rest of my life,” he said.

  I let that final comment of his linger as I kissed him good-bye and disappeared into the security line. I was tempted to look back and wave, but knew that if I did, the tears would flow. If there ever was a man I could love as much as my late husband, Frank, it was George Sutherland.

  “Please empty your carry-on bag,” a British security guard ordered.

  And thus, I was transported back to the real world.