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

by T E Kinsey

  ‘Oh, Flo,’ she said, and threw her arms about me as she began weeping again.

  As gently as I could, I manoeuvred her to the foot of the stairs and helped her to sit down.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ I said.

  ‘The old cow got back from gaol,’ she said between sobs. ‘I told her I’d given it careful consideration, but given everything that’s happened, I have my own reputation to think of. I told her I’d stay with her until she found somebody else, but that I’d be looking for a new position.’

  ‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Well done, you.’

  ‘It would be good, except she said, “Well if that’s the way you feel, you disloyal little trollop” – she had the bloomin’ cheek to call me a trollop, after everything she’s done – “if that’s the way you feel, you can go straight away. I don’t want you. You can make your own way back to London. If you haven’t picked up your traps by month’s end, I’ll sell anything valuable and give the rest to the church jumble sale.” I’m out on my ear, Flo. I’ve got no job, no home . . .’ She resumed her snotty sobbing.

  There was an obvious solution. Obvious to me, at least, and to anyone who wasn’t currently sitting on a stone staircase crying their eyes out and wiping their nose on the sleeve of their dress.

  ‘I’m not intending to sound overly harsh, Betty,’ I said, ‘but how quickly do you think you can stop crying and pull yourself together?’

  ‘What?’ she said through a renewed bubbly sob.

  ‘We can almost certainly get you re-employed in five minutes flat. There’s actually no rush, and the job will probably be yours even if you don’t apply until next month, but, you know, strike while the iron’s hot, and all that.’

  ‘What?’ she said again.

  I gave her my handkerchief. ‘Dry your eyes, blow your nose, and follow me,’ I said. ‘There’s a new position waiting for you upstairs. Chop-chop. No, it’s all right, you keep it. I’ve got another.’

  By the time we reached the library, Betty had calmed down a little, though she was still very puffy around the eyes. We found Lady Hardcastle and Miss Titmus still in the armchairs.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We were beginning to fear you might have been abducted.’

  ‘Sadly no, my lady,’ I said. ‘I’m still here. No escape for me. I brought you a present.’ I gave her the photograph and the two sheets of folded foolscap.

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘Oh, I’ve already seen these.’

  ‘Only two of them,’ I said. ‘The third is rather interesting.’

  ‘So these are what Evan pinched from Herr Kovacs’s room?’

  ‘And earned him his wigging,’ I said.

  ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘We must have missed this other sheet in all the clutter on that writing desk. Good old Evan. It’s a shame his light-fingeredness sent Mrs McLelland into a rage. We might have to do some work there to sort things out for him.’

  ‘I’m sure we can talk her round. She’s a bit of a martinet at times, but she’s an intelligent and rational woman.’

  ‘Just so,’ she said. ‘But well done, Evan. And well done, you, for getting him on our side. This gives us plenty more to ponder. Now then, you seem to have brought a colleague. Welcome back, Miss Buffrey. Your mistress has returned, I hear. We’ve not actually seen her – she went straight up to her room – but his lordship did pop in to tell us that all was well.’

  Betty merely nodded.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ I said. ‘That’s actually why I brought Betty up here. There’s been a bit of a falling out.’

  ‘Oh no, how awful. She’s been through a lot, though. Perhaps we should make allowances?’

  ‘That would be the proper thing,’ I said. ‘But it’s gone a little further than harsh words that can be taken back in calmer times. Mrs Beddows has sacked her.’

  ‘I say,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That will never do.’

  ‘Well, quite. The thing is, you see, I was wondering . . .’

  Miss Titmus had been silent through all this, but was now suddenly alert.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I think it will do rather nicely. Miss Buffrey, would you like a job? You see, I’ve recently been persuaded that I’m very much in need of a lady’s maid. And, well, there’s a rumour going round that you might be in need of a new position.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘that was easy. Betty?’

  ‘I . . . er . . . I don’t know what to say,’ said Betty.

  ‘You say, “Thank you, Miss Titmus, that would be wonderful,”’ I said. ‘Then you shake hands and agree to work out the details later.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Betty. ‘That would be rather wonderful.’

  ‘Well, that’s all splendid,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘And so much easier than I imagined,’ I said. ‘I thought it would take much longer than that to get them both to realize what a good idea it was.’

  ‘Your ideas are always marvellous, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘They were always bound to get there in the end.’

  ‘Do you know anything about photography?’ said Miss Titmus.

  ‘Only what I see in the magazines,’ said Betty. ‘And the pictures you show Mrs Beddows. But it’s fascinating.’

  ‘Even splendider,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I shall have a lady’s maid and an assistant in my new business venture. You can be Titmus Photographic Services Limited’s very first employee.’

  ‘And your first commission will be to photograph our house,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Or the motor car. Or The Grange, where my dear friends the Farley-Strouds live. Or anything at all we can find in the village. You must capture the village in all its glory. And change the name, dear; it’s a bit cumbersome.’

  ‘You’re on,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I was a little down in the dumps earlier, but this has rather cheered me. In celebration, Buffrey, I give you the afternoon off. Take your ease, do as you will. I shall see you after breakfast tomorrow, and we can discuss terms and duties.’

  ‘That’s very kind, miss,’ said Betty, whose sniffles had finally ceased.

  ‘And if you bump into Roz, you have my permission to thumb your nose at her.’

  ‘Oh my,’ said Betty. ‘I don’t think I could do that.’

  ‘No,’ said Miss Titmus, ‘nor me. Frightens the life out of me, that woman. Always has. But take comfort in daydreaming it, and then we shall start afresh tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, miss,’ said Betty, and she left the library a much cheerier woman than she had arrived.

  Lady Hardcastle was examining the photograph again.

  ‘She doesn’t look at all troubled here,’ she said.

  ‘Who, dear?’ asked Miss Titmus.

  ‘Young Katy Burkinshaw. She’s so pretty, too.’

  ‘May I?’ I said. She handed me the photograph and turned her attention instead to the folded papers.

  The door handle rattled as Mr Waterford opened it and poked his head round the door.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Roz?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘We thought she’d gone straight up to her room. Have you tried there?’

  ‘Yes, no sign of her. Can’t find her anywhere. And Buffrey’s absent, too. Ah, well. If you see her, please tell her I’m looking for her.’

  ‘Right you are, dear,’ said Miss Titmus.

  He left.

  I looked back down at the framed photograph in my hand. There was the now-familiar group of young sportswomen. Unstoppable champions, with nothing to block their path to success and happiness. Lady Lavinia with her bat. Mrs Beddows with a ribbon tying back her hair, leaning on her friend’s shoulder, with one leg crossed in front of the other. Miss Titmus with her chubby face and her eyes slightly downcast. Katy Burkinshaw with her warm smile, a little brooch pinned to her chest relieving the starkness of the uniform. I looked more closely at the brooch as a thought struck me.

 
‘Miss Titmus,’ I said. ‘Did Katy Burkinshaw have a sister?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes. A couple of years below us. Worshipped her big sister. What was her name? Oh, it’ll come to me in a moment . . . Rebecca. That was it. Rebecca.’

  I tried to pass the photograph back to Lady Hardcastle, who was still poring over the race order.

  ‘My lady,’ I said. ‘Have another look at Katy Burkinshaw. I think I know why she looks familiar.

  She did as I asked, then looked back at the race order.

  ‘Did Monty just say Roz was missing?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘He said he’s looked everywhere.’

  Lady Hardcastle stood abruptly. ‘I rather fear she’s in terrible danger. We need to find her at once.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Helen, I need you to go and find Fishy and Monty. Bring them here, please. Don’t tell them Roz is missing, or they’ll go haring off on their own and we’ll never find her.’

  Miss Titmus looked slightly taken aback. Lady Hardcastle tended to affect an air of slightly dizzy affability among new acquaintances. This confident, decisive, commanding Emily Hardcastle seemed to have come as a bit of a shock.

  ‘Righto, Emily,’ she said. ‘What about Harry and Jake?’

  ‘Harry’s on the sick list – he’ll be no use to us – and Jake will be better employed keeping him out of our way. Best leave them out of it. No, wait, you’re right. Fetch them. They can set up camp in here, coordinate the intelligence. Battalion HQ, and all that.’

  Miss Titmus hurried off.

  ‘Armstrong, go down and find Spinney, and ask him to come up. I’d ring down, but there’s no telling who will turn up, and I need Spinney to coordinate the servants, so it will be quicker to fetch him directly.’ Lady Hardcastle was in charge.

  ‘On my way, my lady,’ I said, following Miss Titmus.

  Rumours of Betty’s ‘sacking’ had already begun to take hold below stairs, and I was delayed for a few moments while I set a few people straight.

  ‘You pal around with that Miss Buffrey, don’t you?’ said one of the cheekier young housemaids. ‘What did she do to get herself sacked? Did she pinch something?’

  ‘She wasn’t sacked,’ I said. ‘She resigned. And if I hear any more accusations of pinching, I’ll box your ears.’

  ‘Have to catch me first,’ she said, and she skipped off.

  I eventually found Mr Spinney in his parlour.

  ‘Come in, my dear,’ he said. He was sitting at his table, using the decanting cradle to decant a bottle of port. He looked up from the delicate work as he greeted me. ‘What can I do for you this fine afternoon? I hear young Miss Buffrey has been dismissed. I do hope it wasn’t anything too terrible. Poor Mrs Beddows doesn’t need any further ugliness in her life.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re the recipient of inaccurate gossip, Mr Spinney,’ I said.

  ‘Oh? How so?’

  We really didn’t have time for all this, but I needed him on our side, and I decided that brusquely dismissing his question would do us more harm than good in the long run.

  As briefly as I could, I told him the full story, of Mrs Beddows’s bullying, and of Betty’s dismay at the scandal that would follow news of the affair and the arrest. ‘And in the strictest confidence,’ I continued, ‘I can tell you that she was immediately engaged by Miss Titmus. I think they’ll get along splendidly, but we should probably wait until it’s all been properly agreed before we say anything.’

  ‘I apologize,’ said Mr Spinney. ‘One should never listen to servants’ gossip. The problem is that we always have quite the best gossip, so it’s hard to ignore it. But I’ve diverted you from your purpose. You wished to see me?’

  ‘I did,’ I said. ‘Would you be kind enough to come up to the library, please? Lady Hardcastle wishes your help with an urgent matter.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he said as he stood. ‘She should have rung down.’

  ‘It was quicker this way. And there’s a need to be discreet at the moment.’

  ‘Oh dear. I do hope it’s nothing too terrible. You should have said so straight away.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ I said. ‘I’m glad I had the opportunity to clarify Miss Buffrey’s situation. But I think we should hurry.’

  By the time Mr Spinney and I returned to the library, Miss Titmus was already there with Lord Riddlethorpe and Mr Waterford. Harry and Lady Lavinia arrived soon after.

  ‘Quite the gathering,’ said Harry as he hobbled to one of the armchairs and flopped into it. ‘An impromptu party, sis? Where’s Roz?’

  ‘As always, Harry, dear, you’ve hit upon the nub of it all quite by accident,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘“Where’s Roz?” is the question we need most urgently to answer.’

  ‘I get the feeling it’s not a game, though,’ said Harry.

  ‘I’m afraid not. This time, it’s deadly serious. And I’m not being melodramatic. Well, I am, I suppose, but I really do fear that Roz is in danger.’

  Six people in various states of agitation started talking at once.

  ‘Quiet, please!’ called Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘Let Emily speak.’

  ‘Thank you, Fishy,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I believe I know who our murderer and mischief-maker is, and I think they have Roz. I think they mean to do her harm.’

  Another clamour erupted.

  Once again, Lord Riddlethorpe’s voice cut through the hubbub. ‘Quiet! Who has her, and what do they intend to do?’

  ‘I think Rebecca Burkinshaw has her. And I think she means to hang her.’

  ‘Rebecca who?’ asked three male voices at once. Miss Titmus and Lady Lavinia simply gaped.

  ‘I’ll tell you the complete tale later,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But for now, action is more urgent than understanding. Fishy, I need you, Monty, and Helen to search the house. Guest rooms and family rooms, upstairs and down. Every nook and cranny.’

  Lord Riddlethorpe seemed happy to allow her to take charge, and nodded his agreement.

  ‘Spinney, please gather some reliable servants and search every inch of your domain. Attic rooms, cellars, private rooms, and offices. Leave no door unopened.’

  The butler, too, nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘Harry, you and Jake stay here. If anyone finds anything, deal with it as you see fit, but report to Harry and Jake, so that we know what’s going on. And remember that “we’ve not found her” is important information, too.’

  ‘And you, sis?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Armstrong and I will search the outbuildings. Are we clear?’

  There were murmurs of assent.

  ‘Fishy,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘do you have a pistol?’

  ‘No,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘We just keep shotguns.’

  ‘No good,’ she said. ‘Too imprecise. No matter. Off you go, then. And hurry. If I’m right, we have until twenty to seven at the absolute latest.’

  ‘Twenty to seven?’ said Mr Waterford.

  ‘Sunset.’

  Lady Hardcastle and I left by the front door and hurried around the outside of the house.

  ‘This whole ghastly business began in the coach house,’ said Lady Hardcastle as she strode towards the stable yard. ‘It would be gruesome, but fitting, if it were to end there, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m not at all sure what to think any more, my lady,’ I said. ‘I’m still trying to come to terms with what’s been going on. The answer’s been right under our noses all along, but it still boggles my mind; I don’t know about yours.’

  ‘My poor old mind is in a perpetual state of bogglement, dear; you know that well enough by now. Ah, look, the doors are shut. I’m not certain whether that’s a good sign or bad.’

  ‘There’s no way to tell from out here,’ I said. ‘Shall I nip round the other side to cover the back door?’

  ‘Good thinking. Give the old signal when you’re in place, and we’ll go in together.’

  ‘Right you are, my lady. I mig
ht have to force my way in, but at least no one will get out while I’m kicking the door down.’

  I trotted softly across the flagstones of the old stable yard, past the Rolls-Royce, and then worked my way round to the back of the building. The rear door was closed, but I couldn’t tell if it was locked.

  One of my less-celebrated skills is the ability to imitate the call of the jackdaw. It’s not the sort of thing one might do as a party piece, but it had served us well as a secret call over the years – no one thinks anything of the sound of such a common bird. Even China has a type of jackdaw, whose call could only be distinguished by an experienced ornithologist.

  I readied myself for action, and let loose the high-pitched ‘jack-jack’ signal. Almost at once, I heard the sound of the coach house doors opening. I turned the handle of the rear door, but found it locked. This was no time to worry about damaging Lord Riddlethorpe’s property, though, so I took a step back and kicked at the door near the lock.

  Old wood is the burglar’s friend, and the soft, damp wood of the frame around the lock was no match even for my tiny Welsh foot. The door burst open, and I rushed inside to find . . . three motor cars and a disappointed widow.

  ‘She’s not bally well here,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘So I see,’ I said. ‘Where now?’

  ‘There’s nothing for it – we’ll have to search all the sheds and other outbuildings. This is going to take longer than I thought. I was so certain it would be the coach house.’

  And so we searched. We turned the potting sheds, the tool sheds, even the greenhouses, upside down, but there was no sign of Mrs Beddows.

  After three quarters of an hour, Lady Hardcastle was certain we had looked everywhere.

  ‘We’d better get back to the library, and hope that the others have had more luck,’ she said. ‘It’s already nearly six o’clock, and I fear we’re running out of time.’

  The others were already in the library, waiting anxiously for our return.

  ‘Well?’ said Mr Waterford impatiently as we entered. ‘Have you found her?’

  ‘No,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘I’m afraid we haven’t. I take it you haven’t, either.’