Death Around the Bend (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 3)

by T E Kinsey

  ‘If you could help me to get her out of these wet things and into my bed,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘I’ll keep an eye on her to make sure there’s no lasting damage.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ said Lady Lavinia.

  Being capable, intelligent ladies – blessed as they were with the keenest minds, and having had the finest education available anywhere in the Empire – it took them almost half an hour to get me out of my wet clothes and into a warm, dry bed. By the time they were done, I was freezing cold and we were all exhausted.

  Apparently, I smiled and said, ‘Don’t let that duck touch my books.’

  ‘Do please let me call Dr Edling,’ said Lady Lavinia when I was finally settled. ‘It’s really no trouble. He’s a charming old stick. He’ll be here in no time. It would reassure us all, I think.’

  ‘I think so, too,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll be back in two shakes.’

  ‘There’s no need, dear. You join your guests for tea. Give them my apologies.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you. I’ll get cook to send you both something. Armstrong needs hot, sweet tea, at the very least. And perhaps some sandwiches. And cake.’

  ‘Brandy might help, too,’ suggested Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Certainly. I’ll make sure there’s brandy, too.’

  ‘Tea will be fine, your ladyship,’ I said groggily.

  ‘It’s not for you, Flo, it’s for me. I’ve had a terrible shock. Lie still and don’t interfere.’

  I could still hear Lady Lavinia laughing as she made her way down the passage to the stairs.

  The doctor came and went. I was feeling much better by the time he arrived, but I submitted to his prodding, stethoscoping, and tut-tutting. Despite my protestations of my own robust health, he insisted that I rest. Lady Hardcastle decided there and then that I should stay in her bed.

  And so I lay there, alternately dozing and fidgeting impatiently. Later, I heard Betty come into the room to help Lady Hardcastle to dress for dinner. She said it had been Mrs Beddows’s idea, but I suspected that the suggestion had actually come from Betty herself. Not only was Betty the kinder and more thoughtful of the two, she was also the one who would benefit more from spending a few minutes away from her usual place.

  As they both left, Lady Hardcastle told me that Lady Lavinia had had another room made up for her so that she needn’t disturb me again before morning.

  Betty returned a little later, bringing tea, some cake, and my copy of The Time Machine. We chattered inconsequentially until it was time for her to return to Mrs Beddows’s room to ready her for bed.

  I read for a while once she’d gone, but, to my intense irritation, I found that everyone was right and that I really did need to rest. Betty had already switched off the light for me, so all I had to do was blow out my candle and snuggle down.

  I slipped swiftly into a dream-filled sleep, in which Morlocks battled with an army of librarian ducks, and no one knew how to play croquet.

  There was a loud click. I awoke instantly. It took me a moment to work out that it had been the sound of a bedroom door closing somewhere. I heard the creak of a floorboard outside the door as someone made their way carefully along the passage.

  I tried to get up to investigate, but the pain in my head persuaded me not to be so stupid. There were all sorts of reasons for someone to be wandering about the passages of a country house in the middle of the night – few of them wicked, but some of them decidedly naughty. I had no idea of the time, but it was pitch dark. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and drifted back off to sleep.

  I dreamed that it happened twice more.

  When I woke again, there was sunlight streaming in through the curtains and a gentle knocking on the bedroom door.

  ‘Enter,’ I croaked imperiously.

  The door opened to reveal Betty bearing a breakfast tray. ‘Hark at you and your airs and graces,’ she said. ‘One night in the toffs’ rooms, and suddenly you’re the Queen of the May.’

  ‘I was born to it,’ I said as I sat upright.

  ‘That’s a lovely lump on your nut,’ she said as she set the tray down. ‘The story is that your mistress was trying to teach Lady Lavinia her tennis backhand and she caught you on the bonce.’

  I laughed. ‘As always, the story is better than the truth. Thank you for bringing this up, though. It’s a rare treat.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be seeing to Mrs Beddows, though?’

  ‘Ordinarily,’ she said. ‘But she sent me away with a flea in my ear this morning. She wanted a lie-in.’

  She sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Well, she did have a hectic day of being soundly thrashed at tennis,’ I suggested.

  ‘She barely broke a sweat. I reckon it was more likely her night manoeuvres.’ She pinched a slice of toast from my plate.

  ‘Mrs Beddows? Surely not. Who with?’

  ‘I’ve said too much already,’ she mumbled, her mouth still full of toast. ‘I really shouldn’t be gossiping.’

  ‘Betty Buffrey, you’re a wicked tease.’

  Lady Hardcastle breezed in.

  ‘Good morning, O bruisèd one,’ she said. ‘Oh, and good morning to you, Miss Buffrey. No, please don’t get up. I just need to collect a few things. Do you know where my . . . actually, where anything is? I need suggestions for a morning outfit.’

  I shooed Betty out of the way, and tried to clamber out of bed. I stumbled again as I became entangled in the voluminous nightgown I was wearing.

  ‘What on earth?’ I said.

  ‘It’s one of mine,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We thought you ought to have something in case you needed to get up in the night. I must say I’ve always thought of myself as “statuesque” at worst. But seeing that on you, I rather feel like some manner of galumphing giantess. It looks like a marquee.’

  ‘Nonsense, my lady,’ I said as I untwined myself from the folds of cotton. ‘It just needs taking in a bit round the . . . well, all over, really. But it was a kind thought.’

  ‘You have things to do,’ said Betty. ‘I’d better be on my way. I’m sorry for intruding, my lady.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Thank you for looking after Armstrong for me.’

  Betty curtseyed and left the room.

  There was nothing wrong with me apart from a slight headache that throbbed a little if I bent down, so I was able to help Lady Hardcastle get ready without too much trouble.

  ‘What happened to my own clothes?’ I said as I put the finishing touches to her hair. ‘I dimly recall their being soaked.’

  She looked around. ‘Over there on the chair?’ she suggested.

  I looked and, sure enough, my clothes were folded over the back of the chair, clean, dry, and neatly pressed.

  ‘How the Dickens?’ I said.

  ‘It’s always baffled me,’ she said. ‘When I was a girl, I always believed elves did it.’

  I raised my eyebrows, and instantly regretted it as the pain in my forehead intensified. ‘More likely to be the girls in the laundry,’ I said.

  ‘Much more likely,’ she said. ‘Will you be fit to accompany me today? There’s nothing planned, and the day has the potential to be frightfully dull without you.’

  ‘With all your new friends to keep you entertained, my lady?’ I said. ‘Surely not.’

  ‘I should love to go along with the jape and tease you a little, but the truth is that there’s hardly anyone about. Fishy has gone off somewhere with Monty. Jake and Helen are giggling together, while Harry looks on like a lovesick puppy. Viktor and Roz haven’t surfaced yet. I’m all on my own.’

  ‘Herr Kovacs and Mrs Beddows aren’t up yet?’ I said. ‘Betty mentioned that Mrs Beddows was having a lie-in. She suggested she was worn out from “night manoeuvres”.’

  ‘With Viktor? Oh, I say, that would be too, too funny.’

  ‘And a trifle unlikely,’
I said.

  ‘Why? Oh, they’re simply made for each other. Peas in a pod.’

  The threat of renewed unpleasantness from the bruise on my forehead dissuaded me from raising my eyebrows disapprovingly. I ‘hmm’-ed instead.

  She laughed. ‘Come on, then, lazy-bones,’ she said. ‘Get yourself dressed, and we can take the air.’

  ‘I take it you heard Jake talking about Harry,’ said Lady Hardcastle as we took a turn around the grounds.

  ‘That was what caused my tragic downfall,’ I said. ‘I was trying to get the plug out so that the bath wouldn’t overflow.’

  ‘Why not just turn off the taps?’

  ‘You’d told her it was safe to talk because the sound of the water would cover your conversation. If the water stopped, then so would she.’

  She laughed. ‘Instead, you stopped her rather effectively in your own uniquely violent way.’

  ‘And I have the lump to prove it. What do you think, though?’

  ‘About the lump? It’s very fetching.’

  ‘No, my lady, about Lady Lavinia and Harry.’

  ‘Ah, of course. Sorry. I think it’s splendid. Poor Harry had a couple of ill-fated love affairs in his twenties, and then threw himself into his work. He’s risen through the Foreign Office ranks, but he’s lonely. And Jake’s a sweetheart. It takes a genuine poppet to ask a chap’s sister for permission.’

  ‘Which you graciously gave.’

  ‘Not strictly mine to give, old thing, but yes. After we’d left you to your slumbers, I told her it was actually a matter entirely between the two of them, and wished her the best of British.’

  ‘So you won’t tease him about it?’

  ‘Heavens, Flo, what do you take me for? I shall tease him mercilessly. What manner of sister would I be if I didn’t chaff him?’

  We rounded a corner and found Lady Lavinia sitting on her favourite stone bench with Miss Titmus. Harry was approaching from the opposite direction at a fair rate of knots. Lady Hardcastle increased her own speed in an effort to reach the ladies before he did.

  ‘What ho, you two,’ she said jovially. ‘What a glorious day.’

  ‘We were just saying the same thing,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘How are you, Armstrong? Lady Lavinia was just telling me about your mishap.’

  ‘I’ve had worse, madam,’ I said.

  ‘Gracious! You have? That looks bad enough as it is. You’ve really had worse?’

  ‘Don’t get her started, Helen, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘You’ll be stuck there all day listening to tales of danger, derring-do, and disaster. Meanwhile, I’ll be left feeling terribly guilty because most of her wounds and injuries were sustained while protecting me when I’d foolishly overreached myself.’

  Harry had caught us up by now and was hovering in the background, clearly eager to interrupt, but uncertain about doing so.

  ‘Oh, do stop dithering, Harry, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Either come over or sling your hook.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ said Harry as he joined the growing group. ‘Good morning, Strong Arm.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Feather-Stone-Huff,’ I said with a curtsey.

  ‘That’s quite a bump you’ve got there,’ he said as he peered closely at my aching forehead. ‘Rumour has it that our Emily clouted you with an ornamental doo-dah. Something to do with finally growing weary of your infernal cheek.’

  ‘It was bound to happen sooner or later, sir,’ I said. ‘Usually, she doesn’t leave marks.’

  ‘Oh, Flo, you absolute beast,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Take no notice, ladies. Harry, I blame you for encouraging her.’

  I grinned unapologetically while the ladies laughed.

  ‘Now, Helen,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I wonder if I might have a word or two in private. Away from my brother’s flapping lugholes.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Why, of course. Do excuse me, Jake, Harry. It seems my attention is required elsewhere.’

  She stood, and the three of us strolled away, leaving Harry and Lady Lavinia on their own.

  ‘Heavens, Emily,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Whatever’s the matter? Have I done something terrible?’

  ‘No, you goose,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I just wanted to leave the two lovebirds alone. Harry’s a dear, sweet boy, and quite a whizz at the Foreign Office, but in matters of the heart he’s as hesitant and useless as a . . . as a . . . Help me out, Flo. As hesitant and useless as . . . ?’

  ‘You’re on your own, my lady,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to set off on these reckless similes without any idea of how to complete the journey, you’ve only yourself to blame.’

  ‘Harrumph,’ she said. ‘You see what I have to put up with, Helen, dear? I think you’re better off without a lady’s maid. They’re nothing but trouble.’

  ‘I couldn’t disagree more,’ said Mrs Titmus. ‘I shall be placing an advertisement for a companion as soon as I get back to London.’

  ‘Good for you. I should warn you, though, that Flo here is a unique treasure. You’ll not find her like in even the finest agencies in London.’

  ‘I very much get that feeling,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Changing the subject: how are your investigations coming along?’

  ‘Not so well, I’m afraid. We strongly suspect that Mr Kovacs might have had something to do with it, but it’s just supposition – we’ve no proof. I’m beginning to think there might be a touch of xenophobia mixed in with it as well. We’ve had more than our fair share of run-ins with the fine folk of Austria-Hungary over the years, and I fear I might have taken against them as a nation.’

  ‘I’ve never trusted the Belgians myself,’ said Helen absently. ‘Not quite French, not quite Dutch. They make delicious chocolate, mind you.’

  ‘At least they’ll be on our side if things cut up rough. Them and the French.’

  ‘Are things likely to cut up rough, do you think?’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time, I feel. The German Empire seems to be spoiling for a fight.’

  ‘I do feel like such a duffer sometimes,’ said Miss Titmus sadly. ‘I make no effort to keep up with international affairs.’

  ‘I can’t honestly say I feel like a better person for knowing,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s just a habit from a past life. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in the philosophies of the politicians and diplomats. I’d as soon keep up to date with developments in science and the cinematic arts. Much more relevant, if you ask me.’

  ‘I don’t even do that. Well, I suppose I’m au fait with the world of photography.’

  ‘Specialization is the modern way, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Expertise. That’s the key . . . Oh, I say, how did we end up here?’

  Our aimless wandering had led us into the kitchen garden. I waved to Patty who was, once again, carefully harvesting herbs for Mrs Ruddle.

  ‘Let’s cut through the stable yard and make our way to the front of the house,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’ve not really seen that side of the estate.’

  We did as she suggested, using the arched doorway in the corner of the walled garden. Morgan Coleman, the mechanic, was already there. He was unlocking the large coach house doors.

  ‘Good morning, Morgan,’ said Lady Hardcastle brightly. ‘Time to give the thoroughbreds a run out?’

  He laughed indulgently. ‘Something like that, m’lady,’ he said. ‘His lordship has an idea for some adjustments to the carburettor on the number two car. Thought I’d make a start before it becomes “urgent”, like.’

  ‘Good plan,’ she said. ‘He’s lucky to have you on his staff.’

  ‘Thank you, m’lady,’ he grunted as he heaved the first of the enormous doors open. He walked back to do the same with the other door, but something caught his eye. ‘What the devil?’ he said. He made his way cautiously inside the coach house.

  Intrigued, we stopped to watch.

  ‘Lady Hardcastle!’ he called. ‘Could you come in here, please?’

&n
bsp; Lady Hardcastle and I exchanged puzzled looks. She set off at once. Miss Titmus made to follow her, but something about Morgan’s tone suggested that it might not be something she would want to see. I laid my hand on her arm.

  ‘I think we should wait here, madam,’ I said. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘In case what?’ she said. ‘Oh, I see. Very well.’

  Lady Hardcastle re-emerged a few moments later.

  ‘Helen, I need you to go into the house and find Fishy. Tell him I need him in the coach house. Tell him it’s urgent.’

  ‘But what . . . ?’

  ‘Now, dear. Go.’

  Miss Titmus looked bewildered, but Lady Hardcastle’s tone brooked no disobedience. She left on her appointed mission.

  ‘Come with me, Flo,’ said Lady Hardcastle, once Miss Titmus had gone. ‘This is a most unpleasant development.’

  I followed her back into the coach house. Morgan was crouching at the far corner of one of the motor cars. He was examining something on the floor. As we approached, I was able to see the object of his scrutiny. Lying on the floor, a pool of dark, congealed blood around the remains of his skull, was the body of Viktor Kovacs.

  Chapter Twelve

  It wasn’t long before we heard two pairs of footsteps in the yard. The door clattered as Lord Riddlethorpe pulled it further open. He was accompanied by Mr Waterford.

  ‘What’s all the fuss, Emily?’ asked Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘All Helen would say was that it was urgent but she . . .’ He caught sight of the body. He swore.

  Mr Waterford rushed towards the body, but Lord Riddlethorpe held him back. ‘It’s best not to touch anything.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We should leave everything exactly as it is for the police.’

  Morgan indicated the hefty wrench lying on the floor. ‘It looks like they used that to stove his head in, your lordship.’

  ‘We’d worked that out for ourselves,’ snapped Mr Waterford.

  ‘Steady on, Monty,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘We’re all a bit shocked, but there’s no need for that.’

  Mr Waterford turned to Lady Hardcastle. ‘And if you were half the “detective” you make yourself out to be, Viktor wouldn’t be lying there now.’