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

by T E Kinsey

  Feeling full and rather jolly, we gathered the golf clubs, summoned the dogs, and set off towards the middle of the racing track.

  There was a small patch of smooth, level grass just inside the racing track. We stopped there and dropped the two golf bags. The Dalmatians bounced around us excitedly.

  Lady Hardcastle allowed Miss Titmus to demonstrate the correct technique for holding the club and addressing the ball, and then took a few inept practice swings of her own. Miss Titmus corrected her stance and guided her once more through the mechanics of the perfect golf swing.

  ‘Let me have a go with a ball, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle, after a few more attempts. ‘Let’s see if I’ve got it.’

  Miss Titmus produced a small rubber mat and a scuffed old ball from her golf bag. She carefully placed the ball on the raised tube in the centre of the mat and stood back.

  ‘It’s all yours,’ she said. ‘Nice big swing, and remember to keep going after you’ve hit it. “Follow through”, as they say.’

  ‘Right you are, dear.’

  If Lady Hardcastle were a man, she would have been labelled a bounder and a cad. Sadly, there were no equivalent terms for a lady. Her oh-so-innocent claim of inexperience on the golf course – ‘It’s not something I’ve ever got round to trying’ – was an outright lie. She had been playing for at least twenty years, and if Harry hadn’t been so distracted by Lady Lavinia, he would have set the record straight at breakfast.

  She addressed the ball, took her swing, and struck the ball cleanly on the centre of the club face. She launched the ball on a long, looping trajectory, which took it sailing over the crest of the small hill ahead of us.

  ‘Something like that, dear?’ said Lady Hardcastle with an impish grin.

  ‘Why, you absolute beast,’ said Miss Titmus, laughing. ‘You’ve been having me on all this time. You rotter.’

  ‘It’s all down to your instruction, I promise.’

  ‘Pfft. I’ve half a mind to send you off to fetch it yourself,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘But that would just be denying the girls their chance of a run.’ She ruffled the ears of the two eager Dalmatians. ‘Go on, girls, fetch the ball,’ she said in that eager voice everyone reserves for speaking to dogs and small children. ‘Fetch it.’

  The dogs didn’t need to be told twice and were already on their way.

  ‘Do you fancy a go, Buffrey?’ asked Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s awfully good fun.’

  ‘Well, I . . .’ mumbled Betty.

  ‘Oh, go on. Give it a try,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘While the evil old cat’s away, what?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Betty, with sudden resolution. ‘Yes, all right.’

  She took the proffered club and did her best to imitate the swing that Lady Hardcastle had just demonstrated. Her first effort dug up a large divot in front of the tee and tipped the ball off the mat. Her second swooped high over the ball, and the momentum of her swing spun her round on her smooth-soled boots.

  When we had all stopped laughing, she made herself ready to give it another try. There was a brief pause while we waited for the Dalmatians to return. Eventually one of them hove into view and trotted over to drop Lady Hardcastle’s now-slobbery ball at our feet. And then Betty took her third swing. This time she made contact with the ball and lobbed it about thirty yards in the direction of the hillock.

  ‘Nicely done,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘You’re a natural. And what about you, Armstrong? I bet you play with your mistress. Or are you going to try to kid on that you’ve never so much as seen a golf club in all your days?’

  ‘It would be amusing to try to pretend, miss,’ I said. ‘But Lady Hardcastle taught me to play years ago.’

  ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘Well, let’s see what you’ve got, then.’

  I played my stroke. I could tell from the moment the club hit the ball that it was going to be a good one. It flew straight and true. To my eye, it gained a good deal more height than Lady Hardcastle’s had, and I was disappointed that her ball had already been retrieved. It would have been fun to see how much further I’d hit it.

  ‘You two simply must come down to my local golf club on ladies’ day,’ said Miss Titmus gleefully. ‘I dare say you’d give some of the chaps a run for their money.’

  She took her own shot, which disappeared over the hill along the same line. Grinning, she dispatched the eager dog to fetch the balls. I didn’t share her confidence that the Dalmatian was capable of understanding the need to retrieve three balls, but we had nothing better to do, so we stood around discussing our golfing exploits while we waited.

  Five minutes had passed before we decided that the dog almost certainly wasn’t going to come back, and that we should probably move our game to the other side of the grassy hillock. We gathered up the golf bags and Miss Titmus’s tee, and set off in the direction of our shots.

  We all looked about as we crested the small hill, trying to see what had happened to the dogs and the golf balls. We saw the Dalmatians about fifty yards down the hill. One seemed to be resting, as though the effort of trotting over the hill had exhausted her. It was when we heard the other one whining that we knew something was wrong.

  ‘Oh, good lord,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Electra! I think we must have hit the poor girl with one of the golf balls. She’s unconscious.’

  She quickened her pace towards the stricken dog, and we followed. As she reached it, she bent down and examined it.

  ‘There’s no sign of anything,’ she said. ‘We’d better get her back to the house, though. Do you think we could carry her?’

  ‘We might be able to,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But if she’s injured, we should probably be a little gentler. Flo, dear, pop back to the house and see if you can find a handcart or something.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Betty. ‘I think I know where they keep one.’

  ‘And a blanket,’ called Lady Hardcastle as we set off back towards the house.

  I left Betty to find and deliver the handcart while I went into the house to see if Lord Riddlethorpe had returned. I’d never owned a dog, but I was certain that if I had, I should have liked someone to let me know when it had been floored by an errant golf ball.

  I found him in his study.

  ‘Why, Miss Armstrong,’ he said as I peered round the door. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, my lord,’ I said, ‘but Electra has been in an accident.’

  His face whitened. ‘Oh, good lord,’ he said quietly. ‘Can this dreadful week bring any more tragedy? What’s happened?’

  ‘We’re not sure,’ I said, ‘but it looks as though she was hit by a stray golf ball. She’s out cold.’

  He relaxed. ‘Is that all?’ he said with a faint smile. ‘Stupid creatures get into all sorts of scrapes. I’m sure she’ll be fine.’

  ‘Miss Buffrey is taking a handcart out to fetch her back. Lady Hardcastle and Miss Titmus are looking after her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’s in good hands. I’ll telephone the vet, just in case. He lives just this side of the town. He can have a look at her.’

  ‘Right you are, my lord. If you don’t mind, I’d better be getting back to them.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you for letting me know.’

  By the time I’d made my way back through the house and out towards the racing track, the stretcher party was already heading in. Miss Titmus was pushing the handcart, with Betty comforting the stricken dog, and Lady Hardcastle walking behind with a morose-looking Asterope.

  I waited for them and helped manhandle Electra into the hall, where we gave her into the care of her master.

  ‘Thank you, ladies,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘The vet’s on his way.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Fishy,’ said Miss Titmus. She was in some distress. ‘It’s all my fault. She was still fetching a ball when we sent a couple more over the hill. I should have waited. I do hope she’s all right.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Helen. There’s nothi
ng you could have done. She’s had worse, haven’t you, old girl?’ He crouched down and gently stroked the dog, who had come round and was now wrapped in a blanket. She looked dreadful. She spasmed and then lay still. ‘Don’t worry, old thing. We’ll have you back to your old self in no time.’

  Lady Hardcastle caught my eye and signalled that she wished to speak to me in private. We slipped away and went back through the house to the terrace.

  She examined the area around the table.

  ‘The dog wasn’t biffed on the head by a golf ball, was she?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ she said, still searching. ‘You saw the state of her. She was poisoned. Something like strychnine, if I remember my poisons correctly.’ She picked up a small piece of half-chewed sandwich that had been missed by the household servants when they tidied up. ‘Luckily, she barely ate any of it. Saved by piccalilli.’

  ‘You think so?’ I said. ‘It was deliberate? That means someone was after Miss Titmus.’

  ‘It really does look that way, doesn’t it,’ she said. ‘I’ll pop in and give Fishy the bad news. Perhaps the vet will be able to do something for her if he knows what’s wrong. I rather suspect that country vets might have to deal with accidental poisonings rather more often than one would hope.’

  ‘Right you are, my lady,’ I said. ‘Is it worth my while asking around in the kitchens, or do you have a master plan?’

  ‘That sounds like the best we can do for the moment. But keep it to Mrs Ruddle and her kitchen maid. I can’t see that a cook would be so foolish as to poison her own food – she’d be the first to fall under suspicion – but I wouldn’t like anyone else down there to know that we’re on to them.’

  Finding Mrs Ruddle was never a problem – I’d never known her not be in the kitchen. Unfortunately, being confined to the kitchen meant that neither she nor Patty had seen anything.

  ‘I put ’em out on the table in the servants’ hall,’ said Patty. ‘Then I come straight back in here.’

  ‘Who ordered them?’ I asked.

  ‘Alfie come down from Miss Titmus.’

  ‘He’s one of the footmen?’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘I called out that they was ready and just left them.’

  ‘So everyone knew they were there?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And who knew about the ham and piccalilli? Who knew they were for Miss Titmus?’

  Patty and Mrs Ruddle both laughed. ‘Everyone did, dear,’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘Every time she comes down here with her ladyship, we has to make sure we gets piccalilli in special. No one else likes it. If there’s piccalilli in a sandwich, it’s bound for our Miss Titmouse.’

  This was no help at all. Almost every member of the household would have had reason or excuse to be in the servants’ hall before lunch, and if all of them knew whose sandwich was whose, there was no way to narrow things down.

  ‘Thank you, ladies,’ I said, and made to leave.

  ‘Was there something wrong with the sandwiches, then?’ asked Mrs Ruddle. ‘Something wrong with the piccalilli? It was fine when it left my kitchen.’

  ‘Nothing at all, Mrs Ruddle,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Just something Lady Hardcastle was wondering. You know what “them upstairs” are like.’

  She nodded sagely, and I took my leave.

  I found Lady Hardcastle strolling along a path in the formal garden at the rear of the house, kicking at the gravel as she walked.

  ‘You’ll ruin those boots,’ I said as I caught up with her.

  ‘Sorry, Mother,’ she said without looking up.

  ‘How’s Electra?’

  ‘She should be all right. The vet said he sees a few accidental poisonings every year, so he knows just what to do. It’s a good thing Fishy called him.’

  ‘How did he take the news that it came from a poisoned sandwich?’ I asked.

  ‘I decided not to tell him that part. He’s hopping mad that someone left rat poison out where the dogs could get at it, but he didn’t question me too closely on the details. Good thing, too – I had no credible story to explain how she came to eat it.’

  ‘He’ll have to know.’

  ‘He will, but I’d rather take him an explanation than just another mystery. And I’m not sure Helen would cope particularly well with the news that someone tried to bump her off.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose she would.’

  ‘Harry and Jake arrived while the vet was loading Electra into his four-wheeler. To be honest, I didn’t really relish the thought of all four of them getting in a flap.’ She kicked morosely at the gravel again.

  ‘I can understand that,’ I said. ‘We shall just have to redouble our efforts.’

  ‘We shall,’ she said.

  We walked on.

  Before long, we had left the formal garden, and we found ourselves wandering aimlessly across the estate in the vague direction of the long, tree-lined drive. Through the trees, I caught a glimpse of what looked like Lady Lavinia and Harry wandering towards us with a similar aimlessness. I nudged Lady Hardcastle and nodded towards them.

  ‘Looks like I’ll need to go shopping for a new hat,’ she said when she saw them.

  ‘They’ve only just met,’ I said. ‘Surely you can’t be marrying them off already.’

  ‘Care to make a wager? Ten bob says he pops the question before we go home.’

  ‘You’re on,’ I said. ‘It’ll take him months to pluck up the— What on earth?’

  There was a crunch of gears as Lord Riddlethorpe’s Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost lurched along the drive in the direction of the main road. It was gaining speed.

  ‘I say,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Who the Dickens do you suppose that could be?’

  ‘Lord Riddlethorpe?’ I suggested.

  ‘No, he’s a much better driver than that. So’s Morgan. I wonder— Harry!’ she yelled suddenly as Lady Lavinia and Harry stepped on to the drive. They were directly in the path of the now-speeding motor car.

  Hearing his name, Harry looked up to see his sister waving frantically at him. Then he turned and noticed the motor car. He shoved Lady Lavinia in the small of her back, sending her sprawling across the drive and safely on to the grass. He leapt backwards himself, but he wasn’t quick enough. The mudguard clipped his hip as he jumped, and he fell awkwardly. The Rolls didn’t stop, and was quickly out of sight.

  We ran towards them.

  By the time we reached the drive, Lady Lavinia was crouching over Harry. There was blood on her hands where she had scratched them as she fell, and her dress was torn, but she didn’t seem to care. Harry was dazed.

  ‘Harry?’ she said. ‘Harry?’ she repeated, slightly louder this time.

  ‘What?’ he said irritably. ‘Oh, Lavinia, I’m so sorry, I didn’t . . . I say, my leg doesn’t half hurt.’

  ‘Being knocked down by a speeding motor car will do that, brother, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No, you oaf, don’t try to stand. What’s the matter with you?’

  Harry slumped back down.

  ‘Man’s an idiot,’ she said.

  ‘He is,’ said Lady Lavinia, stroking his head. ‘But he’s my idiot.’

  ‘Flo,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Be a poppet and trot back to the house for that handcart. We ought to get the idiot off the road. Bring some muscle as well – I’m not certain we can lift him by ourselves.’

  ‘Tell Fishy to telephone the doctor as well, please, Armstrong,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘I think this might need plaster.’

  ‘I shall ask his lordship to do that,’ I said.

  Lady Lavinia laughed. ‘No, dash it, tell him. He’s just as much of an idiot as Harry. They need telling, these idiots.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harry’s leg was badly bruised. Although there was nothing broken and there seemed to be no lasting damage, he was kept at the local cottage hospital overnight as a precaution. Lady Lavinia remained by his bedside, and I began to suspect I’d lose my ten shillings. It wasn’t a wa
ger I’d mind losing.

  They arrived back at the house together just as Lady Hardcastle and Miss Titmus were sitting down to breakfast. There was no one else about, and so they invited me to join them. I declined – it was possible that I would still need to be in with the household servants, and I didn’t want to turn them against me by hobnobbing. I compromised by hovering nearby with a sandwich I’d made with a brace of bangers and a couple of slices of buttered toast.

  The sound of clumping footsteps came from the hall. The door opened.

  ‘What ho, sis,’ said Harry as he hobbled into the dining room on Lady Lavinia’s arm. ‘Saved any bacon for us? Or have you yaffled the lot?’

  ‘I’ve already saved your bacon, dear. Many times. You’re better, I take it?’

  ‘Fit as a flea, old thing. Morning, Helen. And Strong Arm! What are you doing lurking there?’

  ‘He’s not fit at all,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘He’s under strict instructions to rest, and I intend to see that he obeys those instructions.’ She patted his hand.

  ‘Help a chap to the table, then, old girl, and I’ll rest there. With the bacon.’

  They both sat down.

  ‘I see they found the Rolls,’ said Lady Lavinia as she helped herself to toast. I was a little surprised by her matter-of-factness. ‘We assumed it was gone for good, so we took a taxi from the hospital. I would have telephoned for Morgan if I’d known.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It had been abandoned in the lane. I’m not certain of the name. Church Lane? Borders the estate to the east. Morgan and some of the lads found it and brought it back last night.’

  ‘It’s awful,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘After everything else. Why would someone want to hurt you, Harry?’

  ‘Who knows why these people do anything?’ he said. ‘Some ne’er-do-well coming down to the house on some pretext or other, happens upon the Rolls, nicks it, clobbers me, then dumps the motor when he realizes how deep he’s got himself. We’ll never understand it.’

  Lady Hardcastle and I exchanged glances. It was quite the most absurdly unlikely explanation I could imagine for the previous evening’s events, but a tiny shake of her head let me know that we weren’t going to gainsay him. Then I caught Harry’s eye, and a similar look told me that he didn’t believe it any more than I did.