Cicely’s Uncle Harry had died some years before, in Marienbad, where the family had originally moved for the good of his health. It had been a wise idea, and had worked well for a time, as his health had shown a distinct improvement, but unfortunately he had then succumbed to a bad bout of pneumonia and had sadly died. His wife and daughter, however, had continued to live in Marienbad, where they had made many friends.
‘Have I changed since you saw me last?’ asked Sophie, as the three of them went out of the station and hailed a taxi.
‘Completely. You were a girl when I saw you last. Now you’re a young woman.’
Sophie was pleased to hear this, and together the three of them climbed into the taxi. Once Cicely’s luggage had been loaded they drove through the pine forests to the villa, which was on the outskirts of the town. It was a large house, with a long veranda running along the front. Pleasant gardens surrounded it, and beyond them lay the forest.
‘You will want to refresh yourself,’ said her aunt, as she showed Cicely up to her room. ‘Come down when you are ready. You know the way.’
Cicely nodded: the villa was almost as familiar to her as the Manor house or the Lodge.
Once her aunt had gone she threw open the window of her bedroom and breathed in deeply, savouring the delicious scent of pine. She looked out over the tree-clad slopes and down onto the town in order to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She could make out the Kirchenplatz, the famous square in which the Hotel Weimar stood, and by standing on tiptoe she could just see the hotel itself. Being late August, she knew the King would be in residence, and she imagined him in his personal suite, reading his newspaper or taking a glass of the health-giving waters for which the town was famous. It was strange to think of being so close to her King. She might even see him, if she was lucky, on one of his frequent strolls.
Turning away from the window she washed and changed. She put on a long mauve skirt and a lace-trimmed blouse that her aunt’s maid had by now unpacked, then she went downstairs. Her aunt and cousin were there, reading the newspaper.
‘Good. You’re here. I’ll ring for coffee,’ said Mrs Lessing. She paused before pulling the bell. ‘That is, if you wouldn’t rather have tea? Though I wouldn’t if I were you, it is no better than the last time you were here. The water simply doesn’t seem to make good tea. But it makes delicious coffee.’
‘Yes, coffee, thank you,’ said Cicely.
The servants were efficient, and before long a silver coffee pot was set before Mrs Lessing, complete with sugar and cream. Mrs Lessing poured, and Cicely sipped it thankfully. After her journey, she was in need of something sweet and hot.
‘It was good of you to have me, aunt. Especially at such notice,’ she said as she embarked on her second cup of coffee.
‘Nonsense. We are delighted to have you. You have livened up our summer. We are very quiet as a rule, and it is good to have a little excitement from time to time.’
‘I can’t wait to hear all about it,’ said Sophie. ‘Your letter was very mysterious. Why do you need my help? Though I am very glad you do, it will be so nice to be useful for a change. Life here is very pleasant, but it is very dull. What is it exactly that you want me to do?’
‘Let Cicely finish her coffee in peace!’ Mrs Lessing remonstrated with her daughter.
Sophie pulled a face but said, ‘Very well.’ She turned to Cicely. ‘But as soon as you have finished I want to know all about it.’
‘And you will, I promise,’ said Cicely, as she put down her cup.
‘But not until you have had a hot meal,’ said Mrs Lessing to Cicely. ‘You have had a long journey and you look tired, my dear.’
Cicely felt that it was true, she did not have the energy to explain everything just at present.
‘But I can tell you something,’ she said to Sophie. ‘There has been a robbery at the Manor.’
‘A robbery?’ asked Sophie, alert.
‘Nothing of value, I hope?’ asked Mrs Lessing with a frown.
‘No. In fact, the robbery was foiled. But it could have been very serious.’ Cicely explained about the attempt to steal Miss Postlethwaite’s necklace.
‘That is very unfortunate,’ said Mrs Lessing, ‘but quite frankly, Cicely, I don’t see what it has to do with you.’
Cicely went on to explain that the attempt had been perpetrated by the Honourable Martin Goss, who had evaded capture by slipping the necklace into Gladys’s apron and thereby framing the girl.
‘Not Gladys Vicars?’ asked Mrs Lessing, startled.
‘Yes.’
Mrs Lessing’s brow darkened, for she had visited the Manor on a number of occasions and knew Gladys and her family well.
‘Gladys Vicars is a hardworking, good sort of girl, you were right to get involved, Cicely,’ she said. ‘We can’t let men like Martin Goss behave in such a scandalous fashion, or where would it end? There is only one place for him, and that is behind bars.’
‘And that is where we intend to put him.’
‘We?’
There was a pause. Then Cicely said, as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Mr Evington and myself. We are working on the matter together.’
Mrs Lessing gave Cicely a penetrating look. ‘Mr Evington is the new owner of the Manor?’ she asked.
Cicely flushed, much to her annoyance, for her aunt was a perceptive woman and sometimes saw more than was convenient. ‘Yes.’
‘I see. He is young?’ asked Mrs Lessing.
‘Not especially,’ Cicely replied awkwardly.
‘How old is not especially?’ asked Sophie with interest.
‘He is about thirty,’ said Cicely, raising her eyes, and looking frankly at her aunt. Fortunately her flush had subsided, and she was once more in control of herself.
‘Is he married?’ asked Sophie.
Cicely felt in danger of flushing again. ‘No. Though I believe he has an . . . attachment.’
‘What a pity,’ said Sophie. ‘I am in need of a husband, and living at the Manor would be just the thing.’
‘You are in need of nothing of the sort,’ snorted her mother. ‘You are far too young to be married. It is hardly any time since you put up your hair and put down your skirts. Mr Evington is far too old for you.’ She gave Cicely another penetrating glance, and the words but not for you, hung unspoken in the air. ‘However, his private life is none of our business, except as it influences the present situation.’ She relaxed her gaze. ‘You have told us that he is to be involved in this venture,’ she said to Cicely, ‘but not why.’
Cicely explained about his sister, and her treatment at Goss’s hands.
‘Mr Evington’s sister is a maid?’ asked Mrs Lessing, startled.
‘Was a maid,’ Cicely corrected her. ‘Mr Evington has only recently made his money, through business, and one of the first things he did was to rescue his sister from service.’
‘Family loyalty,’ said Mrs Lessing, nodding in appreciation of this side of the situation. ‘An estimable quality. Undervalued by the young, but not to be taken lightly nonetheless.’ She was thoughtful. ‘So Mr Evington has a personal interest in catching Goss.’
‘Yes. He has been very helpful with the practical aspects of the plan. In fact I would not be able to carry it out without him.’
‘And now it is time to dress for dinner,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘And after that, I suggest an early night.’
‘I won’t be able to sleep,’ said Sophie.
‘You had better try,’ said her mother. ‘You will need your wits about you tomorrow, from all I have heard. We all will, it seems.’
The following morning the three ladies rose early, and after a breakfast of coffee and hot rolls they set out for the café where Cicely had already arranged to meet Alex. She had promised Sophie she would explain her plan when they were all together and after many grumbles Sophie had at last accepted it.
Marienbad, unlike many fashionable places at half past nine in the morning, was already busy. The guests
, who were there for the good of their health, rose early, taking the waters of the Kreuzbrunnen before walking on the promenade. The delightful sound of splashing fountains could be heard, and the cheerful strains of a band.
‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is here,’ said Cicely appreciatively as they strolled along the promenade.
Suddenly she stopped. A distinguished gentleman was walking towards them, flanked by two other gentlemen. Although there was nothing unusual in his dress, which consisted of a dark blue coat, white trousers and a grey felt hat, there was something in his carriage that commanded attention. One glance at his noble face, with its fine eyes, dark moustache and distinctive white beard, told Cicely that she was in the presence of her king. Yet there was nothing ostentatious about him; no pomp and circumstance. He was strolling along the promenade in the most natural way.
‘Ah! You’ve seen him,’ said Cicely’s aunt.
Cicely tried not to show that she was awe-struck, and forced herself to carry on walking, but as they reached the king and he wished her aunt a polite, ‘How do you do?’ she could not help feeling delighted. Even better, he addressed a few words to her, asking her how she was enjoying her visit to Marienbad, before strolling on again.
‘I hoped I might meet him, but I didn’t really think I would,’ said Cicely. ‘I did not see him on any of my previous visits.’
‘He did not used to come here so often,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘But now he comes every year. He is a familiar sight, strolling along the promenade, and he always says a few words in the politest way. He likes to be incognito, as far as possible, when he is here, and does not even use his title, but he is unmistakeable nonetheless.’
‘No, he doesn’t like to use his kingly title,’ said Sophie naughtily, ‘but that doesn’t mean he travels as a nobody. Although he is not King Edward when he is here, he is the "Duke of Lancaster" instead.’
Mrs Lessing looked at her daughter reprovingly. ‘The King is a very busy man, and he is entitled to call himself anything he likes. His visits to Marienbad offer him a brief respite from the pressures of his position, and as to calling himself the Duke of Lancaster, I dare say being a mere Duke is as close to being a normal, everyday person as he will ever get.’
They continued talking about their encounter with King Edward as they made their way to the far end of the promenade, where Alex was waiting for them just outside the café. Cicely’s pulse began to beat more quickly at the sight of him, all thoughts of her meeting with King Edward driven from her mind. But she made sure that her inner turmoil did not show on her face. It was unfortunate they had been thrown together by their desire to catch Mr Goss, as it brought to the surface the very feelings she had been trying to suppress, but nevertheless it must be endured.
Cicely performed the introductions, and after greeting each other politely the four of them strolled to a nearby café. They sat at a table that was set apart from the others as they did not want their conversation to be overheard. They ordered coffee and talked inconsequentially until it arrived.
Once the waiter had withdrawn, Sophie said, ‘Now, Cicely, I am absolutely bursting to know. Tell us, how are we going to catch the thief?’
Cicely took a sip of the hot coffee then turned to Alex. ‘I will rely on you to remind me if I forget anything.’
He nodded, and she began.
‘I have already told you that we are hoping to trap Mr Goss, and that Mr Evington is going to help us to do it. You also know that Mr Evington has already made an attempt to do so, but that the attempt failed. My plan is to tempt Mr Goss with easy pickings again - this time a valuable tiara - but to do it in such a way that he will feel completely safe about taking it, because it will not appear that he is stealing it.’
Sophie and her mother looked mystified.
Alex said, ‘I think you had better start at the beginning.’
‘Very well. My plan is for you to give a dinner party, aunt, at which you, Sophie, will be wearing an expensive tiara. You will flirt with Goss and you will impress upon him the fact that you are very wealthy and also very dim.’
‘No.’ Mrs Lessing was firm. ‘I will not have a daughter of mine behaving in such a way.’
‘But, mother, it is only a game,’ said Sophie.
‘One which half of Marienbad will see,’ retorted her mother.
‘Not if I am discreet.’ Sophie leant towards her mother and placed a pleading hand on her arm. ‘I promise I will only flirt with him when no one else is watching me, if you are concerned. It is all in a good cause.’
‘As to that,’ said her mother, ‘I don’t see how flirting with Martin Goss is going to make him steal anything.’ She looked at Cicely. ‘What has Sophie’s behaviour to do with anything?’
‘I am just coming to that,’ said Cicely. ‘After dinner, Sophie, having impressed him with how silly she is and having given him plenty of opportunity to see what a valuable tiara she is wearing, will engage him in conversation. She will then claim she is overheated.’
She turned to Sophie.
‘It will be better if you let him suggest a walk,’ she continued, ‘but if not, you are to gaze longingly out of the window and remark on the pleasures of moonlit strolls, until he offers to take you outside. Once the two of you are alone you must pretend to swoon. Now this is the difficult part, and will require practice. As you swoon, your tiara must fall from your head.’
Sophie looked surprised, but then said thoughtfully, ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult. Not if I practice first. And I suppose if it won’t come off, I can always raise my hand to my overheated brow and knock it off - discreetly, of course.’
Cicely nodded. ‘Once you come out of your swoon,’ she continued, ‘you are to ask him to escort you to a nearby bench. When he deposits you there, you are to ask him to fetch your mother. Thus the scene will be set for the theft.’
‘Ah. I am beginning to see,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘By presenting him with a valuable tiara lying on the ground you present him with an irresistible temptation ‘
‘And the perfect excuse if he is caught,’ said Sophie triumphantly. ‘If he is discovered with the tiara in his possession, he will not need to plant it on anyone else, he will only need to claim that he was retrieving it for me, as it fell from my head when I swooned.’
‘Exactly,’ said Cicely. ‘And he can do so safe in the knowledge that you will agree with him.’
‘Once he has retrieved it, however, we think he will take it to a fence here in Marienbad, a man who buys jewels with no questions asked,’ said Alex, entering the conversation. ‘I have made some enquiries and discovered that Goss has done business with this man before, and so I have hired a couple of private detectives to follow him once he has taken the tiara. When he tries to sell it, we will catch him red-handed.’
‘And the names of everyone who has ever been framed by him will be completely cleared,’ said Cicely.
‘An excellent plan,’ declared Mrs Lessing roundly. ‘And so you want me to arrange a dinner party at the villa?’
‘Not at the villa,’ said Cicely. ‘We would like you to hold it at the Kurhaus instead.’
‘It is a popular venue for dinners, certainly, but why?’
‘Because your villa is outside town. If Goss steals the tiara there, then he might wait until the following day to dispose of the tiara, or even take it elsewhere to sell, making it far more difficult for us to catch him in the act of selling it. Whereas if he steals it outside the Kurhaus, he will be so close to the fence’s apartment that he will think he can have the whole transaction - the theft and the sale - over with in a matter of fifteen minutes. It will surely prove an irresistible temptation to him, and make it easier for us to catch him.’
That Would Be a Fairy Tale Page 16
