Georgette Heyer

by Why Shoot a Butler?

  For a moment she felt that she could not have understood him. She sat looking up at him in sheer astonishment, and all she could find to say was: ‘But you don’t like me!’

  ‘There are times,’ said Mr Amberley, ‘when I could happily choke the life out of you.’

  She had to laugh. ‘Oh, you’re impossible! How can you want to marry me?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Amberley, ‘but I do.’

  ‘You told me ages ago that you didn’t like me,’ she insisted.

  ‘Why keep harping on that? I don’t like you at all. You’re obstinate and self-willed and abominably secretive. Your manners are atrocious, and you’re a damned little nuisance. And I rather think I worship you.’ He leaned forward and possessed himself of her hands, drawing her towards him. ‘And I have a suspicion that I fell in love with you at first sight.’

  She made a half-hearted attempt to pull her hands away. ‘You didn’t. You were loathsome to me.’

  ‘I may have been loathsome to you,’ said Mr Amberley, ‘but if I wasn’t already in love with you, why the hell didn’t I inform the police about you?’

  She found that she was on her feet, and that he was standing very close to her. She was not quite sure how she came to be there; she hadn’t meant to let him pull her up. She studied the pattern of his tie with great intentness and said in a small gruff voice: ‘I don’t know that I want to marry anyone who thinks I’m so objectionable.’

  Mr Amberley caught her up in his arms. ‘My sweet, I think you’re adorable!’

  Miss Shirley Brown, who had just escaped death by drowning, found that a worse fate awaited her. It seemed probable that at least one of her ribs would crack, but she made no very noticeable effort to break free from a hug that was crushing all the breath out of her body.

  The apologetic yet not altogether unreproving voice of the sergeant spoke from the doorway. ‘I beg pardon, I’m sure,’ it said, ‘but I knocked twice.’

  Twenty

  It was eleven o’clock when Lady Matthews, playing Patience, heard the unmistakable sound of the Bentley coming up the drive. Her husband and daughter, who had failed to induce her to tell them what was on her mind, heaved two separate sighs of relief.

  Lady Matthews raised her eyes from the card-table. ‘Quite all right,’ she said. ‘It’s come out three times running. I wonder if he’s brought her here.’

  They heard the butler’s tread in the hall and the opening of the front door. A moment later Shirley, an odd figure in garments that palpably did not belong to her, came in with Mr Amberley behind her.

  Lady Matthews got up. ‘I knew it was all right,’ she said placidly. ‘So glad, my dear. Did you tell Frank?’

  Shirley caught her hands. ‘He knew,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’ve been very silly. He says so anyway.’

  Sir Humphrey, who had put on his glasses the better to survey her, looked in bewilderment at his nephew.

  Amberley grinned. ‘Admiring Shirley’s get-up? It is nice, isn’t it? It belongs to the landlady of a pub at Littlehaven. Do you mind going to your study? I’ve pushed the sergeant in there; he wants a warrant to arrest Fountain.’

  ‘I never did like that man,’ said Lady Matthews.

  ‘Arrest Fountain?’ repeated Sir Humphrey. ‘God bless my soul, on what charge?’

  ‘Attempted murder will do to start with. The sergeant will tell you all about it. Aunt Marion, is the last post in?’

  ‘Certainly, Frank.’ She drew an envelope out of her work-bag and looked at Shirley. ‘Do I give it to him, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Shirley with a sigh.

  Amberley took the envelope and tore it open. Before he drew out what was inside he looked curiously at his aunt and said: ‘What is this, Aunt Marion?’

  Lady Matthews drew Shirley to the fire. ‘Probably Jasper Fountain’s will,’ she replied.

  ‘You ought to be burned at the stake,’ said Amberley. ‘It’s a clear case of witchcraft. But only half of his will.’

  ‘Ah, that would account for it then,’ she said. ‘Better stick them together. There’s some adhesive tape somewhere. My dear child, did he try to murder you? Do sit down!’

  Amberley took the torn sheet of foolscap out of the envelope and laid it on the card-table. From his notecase he drew a similar sheet. ‘You seem to be quite sure I’ve got the other half,’ he remarked.

  Lady Matthews put a log on the fire. ‘If you haven’t, dear boy, I can’t imagine what you’ve been doing all this time.’

  ‘I have.’ He went over to her writing-table. ‘Where is this tape? Can I look in the drawers?’

  ‘Do by all means. Lots of bills. But I know there is some; Felicity, darling, tell Jenkins food for this poor child. And the Burgundy. He’ll know.’

  Felicity found her tongue at last. ‘If one of you doesn’t tell me what it’s all about immediately I shall have hysterics!’ she said. ‘I can feel it coming on. Who are you and why have you got those ghastly clothes on, and – oh, what is it all about?’

  ‘Don’t worry her now, darling. She is Jasper Fountain’s granddaughter. She’s going to marry Frank. So suitable. But I forgot to congratulate you. Or do I only congratulate Frank? I never know.’

  Amberley wheeled round, the tape in his hand. ‘Aunt Marion, you are a witch!’

  ‘Not at all, Frank. Quite unmistakable. Engaged couples always look the same. Felicity, a tray and Burgundy.’

  Shirley interposed. ‘I’m very hungry, but not Burgundy, please, Lady Matthews. Mr Am – I mean Frank – poured quarts of brandy down my throat when he rescued me. I really couldn’t.’

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ said Amberley. ‘That was two hours ago. And I think bed, Aunt Marion.’

  Felicity, who had come back into the room, went over to Shirley’s chair and took her firmly by the hand. ‘Come on!’ she said. ‘You’re about my height. You can’t possibly wear those clothes any longer. They give me a pain.’

  ‘She’s going to bed,’ said Amberley.

  Shirley rose gratefully. ‘I’m not going to do anything of the sort. I slept all the way home, and I’m not in the least tired. But I should like to get out of these garments.’

  ‘You may not think you’re tired,’ said Amberley, ‘but…’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Frank!’ interrupted his cousin. ‘Of course she isn’t going to bed till all the excitement’s over. Come on, don’t pay any attention to him, Shirley. He’s an ass.’

  Mr Amberley retired, crushed, from the lists.

  Ten minutes later another car drove up to the door, and Jenkins, patient resignation written all over him, admitted Inspector Fraser.

  The inspector was torn between annoyance with Amberley for having kept him in the dark and delight at being about to make a sensational arrest. He assumed his curtest and most official manner, and took the opportunity to remark that the affair had been conducted in a most irregular manner. He then turned to Amberley, who was standing in front of the fire glancing through the evening paper, and asked him whether he wished to accompany the police to Norton Manor.

  ‘Accompany you to Norton Manor?’ repeated Amberley. ‘What the devil for?’

  ‘Seeing that you’ve had so much to do with this case,’ said the inspector nastily, ‘I thought you might want to perform the actual arrest.’

  Amberley regarded him blandly. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ll manage to make a mess of it,’ he said, ‘but there is a limit to the amount of work I’ll do for you. I’ve given your case; now get on with it.’

  The inspector choked, caught Sir Humphrey’s austere eye, and stumped out of the room.

  When the two girls came downstairs again an inviting supper had been spread on a table in the drawing room for Shirley. It was easy to see that Felicity had coaxed the whole story out of her, for she was round-eyed with wonderment. She had provided Shirley with her newest frock, so that it seemed that the engagement had her fullest approval.

  It was three quarters of an hour later w
hen they heard yet another car drive up to the front door, and Shirley had just finished her supper and declared herself able to talk of the events of the day with equanimity. Sir Humphrey was not unnaturally anxious to hear his nephew’s explanation of all that had happened since the murder of Dawson. Even Lady Matthews was roused to request Frank to tell them about it. At the moment, she said, it was like a jigsaw puzzle. You saw what was on each piece, but you couldn’t fit them together to make a picture.

  When he heard the car Sir Humphrey tut-tutted irritably. Were they never to be left in peace?

  ‘I imagine it’s the inspector,’ said Amberley. ‘He doesn’t love me, but he knows better than to omit to notify me of the arrest.’

  It was not the inspector. It was Mr Anthony Corkran followed by Sergeant Gubbins.

  ‘Oh!’ said Amberley. ‘Now what?’

  Anthony was looking rather queer. ‘My God!’ he said. ‘Sorry, Lady Matthews. I’ve had a bit of a shock. Look here, Amberley, this is pretty ghastly! I mean to say – Joan’s all in. Perfectly frightful! I’ve left her with the housekeeper. I shall have to get back almost at once. Just brought the sergeant over to report. The fellow’s blown his brains out!’

  There was a moment of rather shocked silence. Then Amberley began to fill his pipe. ‘I thought Fraser would make a mess of it,’ he commented. ‘What happened, Sergeant?’

  Lady Matthews said kindly: ‘Sit down, Sergeant. You must be worn out. Such a good thing, I feel. No scandal. Basil Fountain, I mean.’

  The sergeant thanked her and sat down on the edge of a straight chair, clutching his helmet. Felicity took it away from him and laid it on the table. He thanked her too, but seemed uncertain what to do with his hands now that they nothing to hold.

  ‘Get on, what happened?’ said Amberley impatiently.

  ‘Just what Mr Corkran told you, sir. Fair mucked it, the inspector did.’

  ‘I thought you were looking rather pleased. No one’s going to run off with your helmet, so stop staring at it. What – happened?’

  The sergeant drew a long breath. ‘Well, sir, we went off to the manor, me and the inspector and a couple of constables. We was admitted by the man calling himself Baker, who we know about!’

  ‘What is his name, Frank?’ inquired Lady Matthews. ‘I couldn’t remember.’

  ‘Peterson. I didn’t think you’d ever seen him, Aunt.’

  ‘Yes, dear, I called at your flat once when you were out. Never forget faces. I’m interrupting you, Sergeant.’

  ‘That’s all right, my lady,’ the sergeant assured her. ‘We arrived like I said, and this here Peterson took us into the library, where we found Mr Fountain and Mr Corkran. Mr Fountain wasn’t looking himself, but he wasn’t put out to see the inspector. Not he. The inspector showed the warrant and said he was arresting him on a charge of attempting to murder Miss Shirley Fountain, otherwise known as Brown. Fountain sort of blinked, but he kept his head all right. I tipped the wink to the inspector to get handcuffs on him sharp. Unfortunately the inspector wouldn’t have it I knew better nor what he did, and instead of collaring Fountain and talking afterwards, he started in to tell him how the whole game was up, for all the world as though he’d discovered it himself. Regular windbag, he was. Of course when he let out about the young lady being rescued, Fountain could see the case was pretty hopeless. It’s a queer thing, sir, but as soon as he heard that he give a sort of sigh like as if he was quite relieved. He said – which, surprised me – that he was glad. “I never meant to do any of it,” he says. “It was forced on me. I’ve been through hell,” he says. Then he says: “I’ll go with you. I’m damned glad it’s over,” he says – begging your pardon, my lady. Then he says: “There’s something I’d like to take with me,” and moves towards his desk. Of course I hadn’t ought to have spoken, not with the inspector there, but I couldn’t help myself. “You stay where you are!” I tells him. “We’ll get whatever it is you want.” And I’m bothered if the inspector, just to give me a set-down, didn’t tell him he could get it if it was in the room, and welcome. Told me to mind my own business and not teach him his. All in front of the two constables what’s more, which he’ll wish he hadn’t done when it comes to the chief constable inquiring how it happened.

  ‘Well, he lets Fountain go to his desk. Any fool could have told him what would happen. He opens a drawer and before you could say knife he’d whipped out a gun and blown his brains out.’

  ‘And Joan,’ said Corkran, ‘was standing in the doorway.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Amberley.

  ‘So am I,’ Shirley said. ‘I know Joan Fountain hadn’t anything to do with it. I didn’t want her to be hurt by it all.’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ said Anthony confidentially, ‘I don’t think she will be, apart from this nasty little show tonight. I mean, he wasn’t her full brother, and she never made any bones about the fact that they didn’t get on. Bad shock, of course, and all that sort of thing, but you wait till I get her away from the manor.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘I say, I suppose the manor belongs to you now, doesn’t it?’

  Shirley said uncomfortably that she supposed it did. Mr Corkran brightened considerably. ‘Well, that’s something anyway,’ he said. ‘Never could stand the place myself. Altogether rather a good show. But I don’t grasp it yet. Why were Dawson and Collins popped off ? What had they got to do with it? Come on, Sergeant! You seem to know all about it. Spill the beans!’

  The sergeant said that it would come better from Mr Amberley. Mr Amberley, with unwonted politeness, begged him not to be so modest.

  The sergeant coughed and shot him a reproachful look. ‘I’m no hand at talking, sir,’ he said. ‘And I wouldn’t wonder but what there’s a point here and there didn’t happen to come my way.’

  ‘Frank shall tell us about it,’ stated Lady Matthews. ‘Someone give Mr Corkran something to drink. The sergeant too. Or mayn’t you?’

  The sergeant thought that he might stretch a point seeing as how he was, strictly speaking, off duty, and had been since six o’clock.

  Amberley leaned his shoulders against the mantelpiece and glanced down at Shirley, seated on the sofa beside Lady Matthews. ‘I don’t think I can tell you the whole story,’ he said. ‘There are one or two things it wouldn’t do for the sergeant to hear about. Or my uncle, for that matter!’

  ‘My dear Frank, pray don’t be absurd!’ said Sir Humphrey testily. ‘Why should we not hear the whole story? It is bound to come out!’

  ‘Not unless I choose,’ replied Amberley. ‘To make it clear to you I should have to divulge certain illegal proceedings which might conceivably induce the sergeant to make two more arrests.’

  The sergeant smiled. ‘You will have your joke, sir. I don’t know what you done, though I always did say and always will, that you’d make a holy terror of a criminal.’

  ‘H’m!’ said Mr Amberley.

  The sergeant, who by this time would have compounded a felony sooner than be left in the dark, reminded him that he was off duty. ‘Anything you say to me now won’t go no farther, sir,’ he assured him.

  ‘Very well,’ said Amberley. He puffed for a moment at his pipe. ‘To go back to the start.’ He drew the crumpled will from his pocket and read the date – ‘which was on 11th January, two and a half years ago, when Jasper Fountain made a new will. This is it. It was drawn up by himself on a sheet of foolscap and witnessed by his butler, Dawson, and his valet, Collins, in favour of his grandson Mark, or failing him, of his granddaughter Shirley. From which I infer that he had only just learned of their existence. Or he may have had a change of heart. It’s quite immaterial. He left the bulk of his property to Mark Fountain and the sum of ten thousand pounds to his nephew Basil, who, under the previous will, inherited the entire estate. I find that he died five days later, which would account for the fact that no lawyer drew up this document. Jasper Fountain obviously feared he was very near death. What was done with the will I don’t know, but that the two
witnesses obtained possession of it at Fountain’s demise is positive. Whether they tore it in half then or later, again I don’t know. At some time or other this was done, the valet keeping one half and the butler having the other. Basil Fountain inherited the estate under the terms of the old will, and these two blackguards instituted a form of blackmail, holding the later will over his head.’ He paused and again looked down at Shirley. ‘You shall tell us why Dawson approached you,’ he said.

  ‘I think he was afraid of Collins,’ she replied. ‘Collins wanted to get back his half. Dawson struck me as a timid sort of creature, not really cut out to be a blackmailer. I don’t know how he discovered us.’ She flushed. ‘You see – my father was – not a particularly estimable person. When he died my mother moved from Johannesburg and called herself Brown. Mark and I kept that name after her death, and when we returned to England. I wasn’t proud of our own name. Mark didn’t care much either way. However, Dawson found us and wrote to Mark. It was a most mysterious letter, hinting at the existence of a will in his favour and warning him of all sorts of danger. It’s at my bank now. I thought I’d better keep it. Mark thought it was a hoax. I didn’t. I came down to Upper Nettlefold to inquire for rooms. Ivy Cottage was to let, and I took that. It suited me better really, because of because of Mark’s – habits. I made Mark write to Dawson, telling him he’d meet him. That frightened Dawson; he didn’t want us here, it was too dangerous. He came once to the cottage, but he was terrified of being seen there, and he wouldn’t come again. He told us very much what you’ve heard from Frank. He wanted to get out – I don’t think he was afraid of the police so much as of Collins. He offered to sell us his half.’ She broke off and looked towards the sergeant. ‘Of course I knew I was going against the law in negotiating with him, but I couldn’t put the matter into the hands of the police, because not only was the will torn in half, but if Collins got wind of the fact that the police were on to him he’d immediately destroy his half.’

  ‘Very awkward, miss,’ agreed the sergeant, who had been listening spellbound.