Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

by Rhys Bowen

  “I don’t think he’s trying to nail anybody. He has to go on the evidence so far,” I said. “It was your knife in Cedric’s back. You admitted you were out in the grounds around that time, and they found your boot prints on the path. Those are pretty significant clues, Jack. If I were a police detective, I’d have to make you a suspect.”

  “So what hope do I have of proving them wrong?”

  I leaned closer to him. “Don’t mention this to anyone, but Darcy is going to have a word with some pals at Scotland Yard to see if they can send someone down to help. And I’m going to speak to my grandfather. He used to be a policeman too and he’s very sensible.”

  “Thanks, Georgie. You’re a good sheila, as we’d say at home.”

  I sat up again as pea soup was ladled into my bowl. The “simple” meal that Cook had been allowed to prepare for tonight turned out to be sole followed by leg of lamb, followed by apple tart with cream, and Welsh rarebit—another feast to me after Fig’s austerities. Nobody spoke much. I think we were all worn out with the emotions of the day. I know I was. I hoped that Edwina would call an early night and I could go to my bed. But as Edwina stood and motioned that the ladies should leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars, Princess Charlotte announced, “If you will excuse me, I will go to prepare the room for our séance. I expect you all in fifteen minutes. Please bring the gentlemen.”

  “Charlotte!” Edwina gave an exasperated sigh. “I thought I made it clear that I wanted this nonsense to stop.”

  Charlotte drew herself up and tossed her jet-trimmed shawl over her shoulder. “I should have thought you wanted your son’s murder solved, Edwina. You do not need to attend. I will consult the spirits alone if necessary, but I hope the young people at least will back me up. They’ll want to hear what Cedric’s spirit has to say to us.”

  She turned to give each of us an inquiring stare. I think I gave an embarrassed kind of nod.

  “Well, I will take my coffee and then retire to my room,” Edwina said. “Given the circumstances, I see no reason for us to pretend to be sociable this evening. I expect you are all as emotionally drained as I.” She gave us a perfunctory nod, picked up a coffee cup and then made a stately exit.

  “Fifteen minutes?” Princess Charlotte turned to us again. “You do want to know who killed poor Cedric?”

  “I want to know who tried to kill me,” Irene said. “I’ll come.”

  I hesitated, not really wanting to follow, but half intrigued after what had happened last time. Belinda was standing beside me. “Are you going to this séance? I think it will be ripping fun. Do you think Cedric’s spirit will really make an appearance?”

  “You weren’t here for the last one,” I said. “It was really quite creepy. The Ouija board spelled out ‘death’ and we heard ghostly laughter.”

  Darcy gave me a sharp look. “Do you think someone was playing games with you?”

  “You mean it was entirely coincidence that a real death occurred the next day?”

  Darcy smiled. “Let’s just say I don’t believe in spirits.”

  “So you won’t come and see for yourself?”

  “I didn’t say that. As Belinda said, it might be ripping fun.”

  It seemed that everyone else was equally curious to see whether Cedric’s spirit would put in an appearance. We all made our way down the corridor to Lady Hortense’s sitting room, site of the last séance. The heavy drapes were closed and the piano covered with a black drape. Chairs were arranged around a small table also draped with a black cloth. A lone, black candle stood on it, along with the Ouija board.

  Princess Charlotte was already seated at the table. Her black-lace shawl was now over her head, hanging down around her face. She motioned for us to join her. We sat. I noticed that Belinda had an expectant smile on her face. Irene looked tense. I could understand that. I’m sure I would have felt equally expectant and scared if I thought that my attacker might be revealed.

  “Please turn out the light,” Charlotte said. Darcy got up to do so and the room was plunged into near darkness with just the one flickering candle. I hadn’t noticed before but the storm had picked up again. I could hear the wind sighing through the chimney, adding to the atmosphere in the room. I could feel my heart thumping loudly.

  “Hold hands,” Charlotte instructed.

  We did. It was comforting to feel Darcy’s hand squeezing mine. On the other side of me, Belinda was trembling a little now.

  “Oh spirits who have gone beyond, we call upon you now,” Charlotte said in dramatic tones. “We call upon you to right a wrong, to bring us to truth.” A long silence, and I could almost imagine that I heard distant whispering. “Spirits, we call upon you to find our murdered nephew, Cedric, and bring him to us.” Another long silence, then she said, “I sense a presence. Cedric—are you out there? Can you hear us?”

  No voice answered but a big gust of wind came down the chimney, making the candle flicker alarmingly.

  “Speak to us, Cedric.”

  We sat in silence. Then Charlotte said, “He hasn’t had time to find his spirit voice. We must use the board. Place a finger upon the planchette.” We did so.

  “Cedric. Can you hear us?”

  The planchette moved painfully slowly over to YES.

  I heard a little gasp from across the table. “He’s here,” one of the Starlings whispered.

  “Cedric, do you know who killed you?”

  YES, again, but with even more hesitation this time.

  “Can you tell us?”

  The planchette began to move. C.

  Eyes went to Charlotte. Then it moved to A.

  The planchette seemed to hover between S and R, finally settling on S. Then even more slowly to what seemed to be T. And then O, then R.

  The life seemed to have gone out of the planchette. Our fingers were still touching it but it refused to move.

  “Castor?” Countess Virginia broke the silence. “What does that mean?”

  “Sometimes the board says funny things,” Charlotte admitted.

  “Castor oil? Castor bean? Castor sugar?” Adrian asked. “But he wasn’t poisoned. He was stabbed.”

  We waited, but nothing happened. The wind seemed to have died down too and the only sound was our tense breathing.

  “The spirits are no longer with us,” Princess Charlotte announced.

  “That was strange,” Darcy muttered as we left the room. “I felt that wretched thing moving around. I know I wasn’t pushing it.”

  “It was like that last time,” I said. “Creepy.”

  “Creepy? Darlings, it was brilliant,” Belinda said. “Now, how about finding a gramophone and . . .”

  “Belinda, there’s been a death in the family,” I reminded her. “No music, remember?”

  “Then at least let’s find a cocktail cabinet,” she said.

  “Everyone’s going up to bed.” I looked around. “We probably should too.”

  “At ten o’clock? I haven’t been to bed at ten . . . at least not alone . . . since I was in the nursery.” And she grinned to us. Darcy and I exchanged a glance and I saw a question in his eyes. Just then, Huxstep appeared in that way butlers have.

  “I’ve told Frederick that he is to help you disrobe, Mr. O’Mara, since you brought no valet of your own.”

  “Oh, that’s quite all right, Huxstep,” Darcy said. “I don’t need help.”

  “It’s no trouble, sir. It’s what the servants are here for. He’s waiting in your room.”

  And he stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching us as we went up.

  “I’ll say good night then,” Darcy said and went off down the other hall. There was no sign of Queenie so I managed to undress myself and get into bed. I had just settled down for the night when there was a piercing scream from somewhere nearby. I leaped out of bed and rushed out into th
e corridor, not even stopping to put on my dressing gown. The scream had definitely come from somewhere close to me, and the only other room I knew to be occupied in this hallway was Belinda’s.

  My heart was in my mouth as I opened her door.

  “Belinda—are you all right?” I called into the darkness.

  “Only just,” came the reply.

  I groped for a light switch and turned on the light. Belinda was standing beside her bed, her hands on her chest as if recovering from a shock, while in her bed beside her Queenie’s disheveled head poked over the eiderdown, blinding in the sudden brightness.

  “What on earth?” I demanded.

  “I got into bed and I touched human flesh,” Belinda said, still taking deep breaths. “Not that it’s the first time I’ve found someone unexpected in my bed, but given the circumstances, I thought it was a body.”

  “Queenie!” I exclaimed.

  She looked sheepish as she climbed out of the bed and straightened the covers. “Sorry, miss. You know how sleepy I get late at night. You told me to help Miss Belinda with getting undressed. Well, I was all ready and waiting for her in her room, and that eiderdown looked so soft and warm, so I thought I’d just lie down for a while and next thing you know, blow me, I must have nodded off.”

  “Queenie,” I said angrily, “if this ever happens again, you’ll have to go. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lady,” she muttered, proving that she could use my proper form of address if she really put her mind to it.

  Chapter 29

  UP TO LONDON, THANK GOODNESS

  We set off early the next morning. Fortunately the rain had passed during the night and the sky was bright and clear. The moment we were clear of the estate we started talking normally, as if a great cloud of doom was lifted from us.

  “It feels as if one has just got out of prison, doesn’t it?” Belinda echoed my feelings. “I can’t wait to get back to London, darlings. I don’t know what made me come down here in the first place.”

  “You were hoping to snag a rich husband,” I said and watched a smile twitch on Darcy’s lips.

  “How brutally frank you are, Georgie. Not a good quality in a lady. Thank heavens you’re stuck with Darcy, as most men can’t abide frankness.”

  Darcy and I exchanged a smile. Belinda chatted gaily all the way up to London, trying out plans and schemes to get herself invited to a yacht on the Med or at least a good house party in the country.

  “That girl will wind up in trouble if she’s not careful,” Darcy said after we had dropped her off at her mews cottage.

  “I think she’s already been in plenty of trouble. She rather enjoys it,” I said.

  “You know what I mean. She’s going the way of your mother.”

  “My mother seems to have enjoyed her life,” I replied. “You can drop me off at the Underground station if you like, and I can make my own way to my grandfather’s house.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  I shook my head. “He’d be embarrassed. It’s better that I go alone.”

  He came around to open the car door for me. “Georgie, don’t suggest he come to Kingsdowne. Not a good idea.”

  “You don’t think my grandfather capable of solving a murder?”

  “I just don’t see . . .” he started then broke off. I knew what he was suggesting. He didn’t see how I could introduce my grandfather—certainly not as a relative. Not as a servant. Not as a policeman. I did see his point. “Maybe he could stay at the inn in the village.”

  Darcy shook his head before giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll meet you at four,” he said.

  “Good luck,” I called after him as he drove off. Then I went down the steps into the Underground station for the first leg of my journey out to Essex. My grandfather lived in a semi-detached house in an outer suburb. It was a very ordinary street of matching houses and pocket handkerchief–size front gardens, but he was well content with it (my mother having bought him the house during the time of her first success on the stage). As I opened the gate of number twenty-two and walked past the gnomes in the front garden, my heart did a little skip of anticipation. I realized that more than anything, I just wanted to see him. I knocked on the door and heard his voice growling, “’Old yer ’orses. I’m comin’.”

  The door opened, and a big smile spread across his old, Cockney face. “Well, strike me pink,” he said. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes! Come on in, ducks, and give yer old granddad a big hug.”

  I did so, feeling the comforting roughness of his cheek and the familiar smell of carbolic soap and baby powder.

  “It’s lovely to see you, Granddad,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Not too bad, my love. Chest still a little dicky, but all in all can’t complain. Come on in and I’ll put the kettle on.” He went ahead to a tiny, neat kitchen, filled the kettle then turned back to me. “So, out with it. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “Do I need an excuse to visit my favorite grandfather?” I asked, smiling at him fondly.

  “No, but when you come to see me, you usually want ’elp with some problem or other.”

  “You’re quite right. I do want your advice,” I said. I perched on the kitchen stool and told him the whole story while he made the tea. As he handed me a cup he looked up at me. “I don’t quite know why you came to see me,” he said. “It sounds like the police are doing their job.”

  “I’m worried that Chief Inspector Fairbotham isn’t very bright,” I said. “He may jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  “I don’t know what you think I can do, ducks,” he said.

  “I thought you might come down to Eynsford and take a look for yourself.”

  He gave a chuckle, which turned into a chesty cough. “Me? Come down to a stately ’ome? Don’t be daft. You couldn’t introduce me as your grandfather, could you? And I’m not sneaking in pretending to be a servant. Besides, it wouldn’t be right for me to poke my nose in. Nor you either. You mind your own business and stay well out of it. That’s my advice.”

  “But it doesn’t look good for poor Jack, does it? Lots of things adding up against him.”

  My grandfather’s head cocked on one side, like a bird. “Did it cross your mind that he might have done it?”

  “What for?” I demanded. “He doesn’t want to be a duke. He doesn’t like it here. He hardly knew Cedric, and had no reason to kill him.”

  Granddad was watching my face, which had changed as I said the words. “You’ve thought of a reason, haven’t you?”

  “He did insult Jack’s mother, but people don’t stab someone for insulting their mother.”

  “In Italy they do it all the time, so I’ve heard,” he said. “So I suppose the question is who had a better reason to want this here duke dead?”

  I thought. “The most likely in my opinion is William, the young man they now have in custody. He had been dismissed from his position in the household, and Cedric was going to pull down his parents’ cottage. And he was seen on the grounds that morning.”

  “There you are then. Sounds perfect. Case solved.”

  “Except that the murderer used Jack’s knife. How would William have found it? He wouldn’t be poking around in the tack room. That sounds to me like a deliberate attempt to incriminate Jack.”

  “A family member, then? Someone who didn’t want him to inherit the title?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “A lot of family members, are there?”

  “Not really. The dowager duchess—well, she wouldn’t kill her own son, would she?”

  He looked at me sharply. “Wouldn’t she?”

  “Granddad, surely not!” I exclaimed in horror.

  “I’ve heard there are people to whom title and honor mean everything. You said he was threatening to adopt
his French valet? And put a theater on the grounds?”

  I tried to consider this: Could Edwina possibly have killed her own son to prevent him from adopting his valet and disgracing the family name? She was the one who told Jack to put the knife in the tack room, after all. She knew where to find it. But her own son? I shook my head.

  “Surely not,” I repeated.

  “Who else then? Any other children?”

  “One daughter, Irene. Only she was upstairs in a stupor at the time—it seems someone had given her an overdose of sleeping medicine.”

  “Tried to kill her too, you mean?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Another family member, you think?”

  “There are only two old aunts, and they’d have no reason to kill Irene. She’s as penniless as I am and will inherit nothing. And I can’t believe either of them could have stabbed Cedric with that huge knife. Not strong enough, and they didn’t even know where it was kept. Besides, he gave them a home. That’s rather biting the hand that feeds you, isn’t it?”

  “So that’s all the family? Anyone else in the house?”

  “Three young men who were Cedric’s followers—all artsy types.”

  “So they’d have no reason to want him dead?”

  “They were seriously upset when they heard he was going to adopt his valet and not one of them, but one can never tell how seriously they take anything. And I don’t think stabbing is their style. Too indelicate.”

  Granddad smiled. I took a long drink of tea. It was very strong and very sweet and went down well.

  “So that’s it then?” Granddad asked, refilling my cup without asking.

  “Apart from some children in the nursery and their tutor and nanny. And the servants, of course. I don’t know much about them but the house runs like clockwork.”

  “So it comes back to your boy, or the former servant who was sacked. Sounds to me like this Inspector Fairbotham is on the right track.”

  “Oh, dear. I wanted you to come up with something brilliant we had all overlooked. But I must say, I’d be relieved if it was William. It’s rather unnerving living in a house wondering who might be a murderer.”