02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall (2 page)

‘Hmm,
the same thought occurred to me,’ said Hallam, putting aside the gramophone
records, ‘You know our sis, she can be rather mercenary, especially where men
are concerned. But I think he’s a trifle young for her, you know how she tends
to prefer the older man. Besides, he’s invited the girl from the dress shop to
stay, Rose Simpson I think her name is.’

‘She
was there at Ashgrove, wasn’t she?’ Josephine enquired, looking interested.
‘She must know what really happened, mustn’t she? I mean, not just the official
version of events.’

‘Well,
don’t you try and get it out of her,’ warned her brother, suddenly becoming
serious. ‘I promised Cedric that we wouldn’t pry. That’s why he’s coming to
visit us. He knows that he can just be himself here. He’s had an awful time of
it, the newspapers have been hounding him something rotten. He hasn’t been able
to step outside Sedgwick Court without being pounced on. His head gardener has
even found pressmen roaming around in the grounds trampling the borders.
They’ve had to employ a man with a couple of dogs to keep them out.’

‘Poor
Cedric, sounds as if he’s had a rum old time of it. He must be serious about
this girl though, mustn’t he? I mean bringing her here. I can’t imagine that
went down well with his parents. They’d have wanted him to marry another member
of the nobility or at least someone with money. Still, he’s frightfully rich
isn’t he, even richer than Daddy, and I suppose he can do what he wants now.’

‘There
was a time when I wondered whether you might be rather sweet on him,’ said her brother,
watching her closely. ‘You know before ….’ He broke off what he was going to say
sharply, as he saw his sister frown and put her hand up to cover her face. ‘Oh,
gosh, I’m sorry, Jo. How jolly rotten of me. I didn’t mean to rake it all up
again. How beastly of me to remind you of it all. I know you’ve tried so hard to
put it all behind you…’

‘It’s
alright, Hallam,’ said Josephine, patting her brother’s arm affectionately.
‘It’s not that, really it isn’t. I’m quite over Hugh. It was just a silly
girlish infatuation, that’s all. And as for Cedric, I was rather fond of him once
when we were both very young, but really it was nothing.’

‘Alright,
if you say so, old thing,’ replied Hallam not at all convinced about her denial
over her feelings for Hugh, and still feeling rather bad. It had been rather an
awful time for them all, really; Cedric hadn’t been the only one of them to
have been subjected to scandal, gossip and speculation. The Athertons had had
their fair share earlier in the year.

Brother
and sister sat quietly together for a few moments, each lost in their own
thoughts. At last Josephine broke through the silence, all the while looking at
her brother keenly while she spoke.

‘You
know, Hallam, I’m awfully fond of you. You really are the best sort of brother
any girl could have. Whatever happens in the future…’ She faltered slightly,
causing her brother to look up at her sharply. ‘What I mean to say is that I
hope you will always remember me fondly and know that I never meant to hurt
you, not any of you, not Father, not even Isabella.’

‘What a
strange thing to say, Josephine. As if
you’d
ever do anything to hurt
us. I can’t think of anyone less likely. Dear old sis, why you are the most
respectable, reliable young woman of my acquaintance. Heaven help us if you
ever do anything wrong. And I’d mind very much if you ever do anything to
change that. I love coming back to Dareswick and knowing that everything will
be the same. You’ll be here, looking after Father, the same old big sister
doing the same old things. But I won’t be too selfish, though. I shan’t mind a
jot if you marry some country doctor or even some librarian come to help you
catalogue all the old books in the library, so long as you promise to stay here
and always remain the same.’

‘I
don’t think any of us can ever promise that,’ said Josephine, slowly.

‘You’re
not unhappy here, are you Jo?’ asked Hallam, suddenly concerned, alarmed by her
unusually serious tone. ‘I always thought you were happy here, looking after Father.
I know Dareswick’s in the middle of nowhere and that it’s very quiet and there’s
no society to speak of, but I always thought you rather liked that. Cocktail parties
and bright lights really aren’t your thing, are they? I thought tennis parties
and village bazaars and suchlike were much more to your liking.’

‘Yes,
of course,’ Josephine said, quickly. ‘Oh just ignore me, I was just being
silly, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it. Goodness, how very serious
we’ve both become. Now, let’s talk about something else, shall we? This weekend
for instance. I’m really looking forward to it, aren’t you? It will be nice to
have a house party for a change, although I have to admit I’m glad that it’ll only
be a small gathering. And you’ll be able to talk to Cedric about Oxford, won’t
you?’

Hallam
looked relieved and happily chattered about his planned entertainment for the
weekend, Josephine nodding every now and then encouragingly, appearing equally
engrossed in their conversation. Had Hallam bothered to look at his sister more
closely though, he would have seen how she picked nervously at a loose thread
on her skirt, and fidgeted in her seat as if she could not get comfortable, and
that there lingered about her a certain air of sadness, which she was trying
hard to conceal.

Rose was
relieved. The train had arrived on time and the journey itself had been
uneventful.  She had sat back in her carriage, her eyes half shut as she had
gone through in her mind the various items that she had just packed, reassuring
herself that she had forgotten nothing, or at least nothing of great
significance. It was a pity, she thought, that for dinner tonight she would be
reduced to wearing again her black, silk velvet, bias-cut dress. She had worn
this same dress on two occasions at Ashgrove, although she was fairly confident
that Cedric would not remember. He had also assured her in his letters that the
Honourable Josephine Atherton was not a girl to follow fashions, preferring
instead to dress in country tweeds. Rose was therefore hopeful that Josephine
might be wearing a similar outfit to her own. She would however have a new
dress to wear for dinner on the Saturday night. Her mother, a skilled
dressmaker, had insisted. She had set to and made one from three leftover
pieces of silk satin material from the gowns of three of her more affluent
customers. Three pieces of material, two of different shades of blue and the
other one of silver, had been combined into a simple entwined design. The dress
itself was backless, as was the rage, and was quite simply the most exquisite
and daring gown Rose had ever owned. She only hoped that she would have the
nerve to wear it.

Her
thoughts drifted to reflect on those who would be present at the house party in
addition to herself and Cedric. It was with relief that Cedric had written that
it was to be a very small house party and that the Athertons were old family
friends who were unlikely to ask her any awkward questions concerning the
events that had occurred at Ashgrove House.

She
thought it likely that she would get on well with Josephine who, by all
accounts, was quiet and unassuming, content to keep house for her father and
involve herself with church bazaars and other such charitable causes. The
Honourable Hallam Atherton, only son of Baron Atherton and three years’
Cedric’s junior, had just started at Oxford whereas Cedric had just finished.
Cedric spoke of him with warmth, saying he had a simple, kindly disposition and
was devoted to, and teased and mollycoddled by, his two older sisters. It had
been obvious from Cedric’s letters, although she thought not intentionally so,
that of the two sisters he preferred the older, Josephine. From what she could
tell, Isabella was very similar to Lavinia, and now that she and Lavinia were
estranged, she could not help but be relieved that there appeared some doubt as
to whether or not Isabella would be coming to Dareswick.

When
she arrived at the station, Rose considered it prudent for appearance’s sake to
engage a porter to carry her case to the entrance rather than try to wrestle
with it herself. She was pleased she had done so, for she was greeted almost immediately
at the station door by the Atherton’s chauffeur, Brimshaw, a rather attractive
young man, who took her luggage and put it straight into the boot of a black
Rolls-Royce Barker. Rose sank back into the luxurious tan leather seats.

‘Miss
Josephine asks me to convey her apologies for not being here to meet you,
miss,’ Brimshaw said over his shoulder, as they set off, Rose leaning forward
to hear his words over the noise of the engine. ‘It seems Miss Isabella will be
coming down this weekend after all, and that she’ll be bringing a friend with
her, although apparently there is some confusion as to whether it will be a
young lady or a young gentleman. So Miss Josephine’s with Mrs Hodges now, she’s
the housekeeper, miss, trying to decide which bedroom to get ready for the
visitor.’

‘I see,
well not to worry. It’s very nice being met by a chauffeur-driven car.’
Secretly, Rose was more concerned at the absence of Cedric. She wondered why he
wasn’t there to meet her himself. She had assumed that he would have made sure
that he was at Dareswick ahead of her arrival. It occurred to her then that he
might have had second thoughts about seeing her again. Perhaps she would arrive
at Dareswick Hall only to be sent home again. Perhaps… No, she mustn’t think
like that. She forced herself to put the idea at the back of her mind and
engage in conversation. ‘I say, is it very far to Dareswick Hall?’

‘Only about
five miles, miss, but we have to go along some very steep and windy country
roads so it’ll seem a little longer as we’ll have to take some of the roads
slowly like.’

Rose
sat back in her seat and reflected. So Isabella was going to be there after
all. She knew that she was being unreasonable to resent Isabella’s presence
this weekend. But she wanted as few people to be there as possible when she and
Cedric met again. She wondered whether they would have a chance to snatch a few
moments together before they were obliged to dress for dinner and join the
others. She looked at the back of Brimshaw’s head and then leaned forward in
order to speak to him. The fact that she would not have to look him in the face
when she asked her question, gave her the courage she needed to ask it, even so
she could not help blushing.

‘Has
Viscount Sedg… the Earl of Belvedere arrived yet?’

‘No
miss, although his arrival is expected imminently. He’s driving down from
Sedgwick Court, I believe, and had hoped that he might be here to meet you off
the train in person. But he hadn’t turned up and Miss Josephine thought it
better not to wait any longer. She didn’t want you to be left hanging around at
the station so she asked me to come and meet you.’

It
seemed to Rose that, while they were talking, the roads had become very narrow
and windy indeed, in some places seeming little more than tracks.

‘Is
Dareswick Hall very out of the way?’ she asked.

‘Aye,
it is, miss, quite out in the sticks. On occasion, when we’ve had bad weather,
we’ve been completely snowed in and not seen a soul for weeks. But it’s a grand
place and I wouldn’t work anywhere else not for love nor money.’

In the
end they came to Dareswick Hall abruptly. The car had turned a sharp corner and
Rose had been fully prepared for their journey to continue when there it was, a
classic redbrick Georgian mansion standing behind massive wrought iron gates
with a long tree-lined driveway leading up to the house. At first glance,
Dareswick Hall reminded her of Ashgrove House, and she could not help but take
a sharp intake of breath. However, it seemed to be built on a grander scale,
with the overall effect being one of splendour, being six-bayed to Ashgrove’s
five, and its eighteenth century origin from first glance appeared unspoilt by
Victorian extensions and alterations. Later she was to discover in the course
of her various conversations with Josephine that the only contribution made by
the Victorians to the Hall had been the large and exuberantly planted rose and
vegetable gardens. Like Ashgrove, she saw that Dareswick consisted of some
three storeys in addition to the basement which housed the kitchen and
servants’ working quarters, and the attics which housed their bedrooms.

She
hardly had time to take in the splendour of Dareswick Hall’s façade before the
car was brought to a smooth stop in front of the house by the chauffeur. Her car
door was opened for her and she found herself ushered towards the front door.
For one brief moment she looked back over her shoulder and saw that Brimshaw
had opened the boot and a footman was gathering up her case. Almost immediately,
however, her attention was diverted back to the front door due to the
exclamation of welcome uttered by a woman a few years older than herself,
accompanied by a rather stout butler of less than middling height.

‘I say,
I’m awfully sorry that I wasn’t there to meet you at the station,’ the girl
said hurriedly, rushing over and shaking hands. ‘Jolly rude and all that, but I
do hope you’ll forgive me. There was a bit of a bedroom crisis. My sister, Isabella,
has decided to bring a friend with her this weekend and we’re not sure whether
it’s one of her girlfriend’s or a gentleman. It put our housekeeper, Mrs
Hodges, in rather a quandary, I can tell you. Still, I think we’ve sorted
everything out now, although it’s meant getting two bedrooms ready just to be on
the safe side. Oh dear, and how very rude of me, Miss Simpson, I haven’t
introduced myself, have I? I’m Josephine Atherton; may I call you Rose?’

Josephine
Atherton was dressed in a plain white blouse and a rather shabby tweed skirt
and, unless Rose was mistaken, there was a small ladder in one of her stockings.
Although she had a nice face, she could scarcely be described as beautiful let
alone pretty. Rose felt that the same could very easily be said about herself
and this, together with Josephine’s pleasant and unassuming manner, and the informality
of her greeting, helped to put her at her ease.

‘Cedric’s
just parking his car in the old stables,’ Josephine said, linking her arm
through Rose’s and leading her into the hall. ‘He was so disappointed not to be
there to greet you at the station but he was caught up in some estate business
at Sedgwick, I believe, which delayed his departure. Now do let me introduce
you to my little brother, Hallam. Although I expect he’s gone off with Cedric;
they’ve got loads of catching up to do and I expect he wants to tell him all
about how he’s finding Oxford. Cedric’s graduated now, hasn’t he? I say, do you
fancy taking a turn around the garden, Rose, while we’re waiting for the boys
to join us? It’s still quite warm for the time of year and not quite dusk so we
should just about be able to see where we’re going. And besides, I’ve been
stuck indoors all day with this and that. Well, of course you have too, haven’t
you, working in your dress shop?’

It was
late September when dusk seemed to range from anytime between six o’clock and
seven o’clock in the evening, and although it was not far off seven, there was
still sufficient daylight left for Rose to take in the formal gardens.
Following the abnormal rains experienced in mid-July, Dareswick’s gardeners had
taken advantage of the mellow autumn to make a start on clearing away the
remains of the summer flower gardens, and had commenced bulb planting in
earnest. It gave the gardens a transitional air as if they were waiting for
something to happen.

‘We’re
planting British-grown bulbs for the first time,’ Josephine informed Rose. ‘You
know, stimulating a new home industry. Tedson, our head gardener, got most of
ours from the West Country. We’ve always bought imported bulbs before, but he
assures me that British bulbs are now just as good and in many respects
superior. I’ve yet to be fully convinced, though, because as I told him I
thought the bulbs looked a jolly lot smaller. But Tedson says they are heavier
and more solid than imported ones and that they’ll produce a better bloom….’

Rose
found herself only half listening to what Josephine was saying, unable to
prevent herself from glancing up every now and then, eager to catch her first
glimpse of Cedric. She was reminded that she had first laid eyes on him when
she had been strolling in a garden very like this one. It had been a summer’s
day then, and everything had been bright and seemed to shine. She had looked up
and seen him, and in that moment everything had seemed to stand still. She had
found both his looks and the unaffected way in which he had engaged with the
Withers’ servants mesmerising.

‘… he
says British bulbs are likely to flower earlier too,’ continued Josephine,
apparently oblivious to the fact that her words were falling on to almost deaf
ears, ‘than imported ones, I mean.’ She lowered her voice suddenly, as if she
was talking only to herself. ‘Of course, I won’t be here to see if he’s right,
what a pity…’

‘You
won’t be here?’ enquired Rose, reluctantly rousing herself from her daydreaming
and trying to show some interest in what her companion was saying, although the
practicalities of gardening had rarely concerned her. She had been content
instead just to look at the finished effect. ‘Are you going away then?’

‘What?
No… of course not.’ Was it her imagination or did Josephine appear unduly
flustered? Certainly there had been alarm in her voice, if Rose was not
mistaken. ‘No, no. Why would I go away? I live here, I’m always here. Always
will be, I expect.’

‘It’s
just that you said –.’

‘Yes, how
silly of me, just ignore me. I do talk a lot of old rot sometimes. I’m so used
to talking to myself you see, when Father’s in town and Hallam’s at Oxford,
there’s often no one to talk to but the servants. Now what was I saying? Oh
yes, Tedson’s going to hold over planting the tulip bulbs until next month. And
the hyacinths too, although we’ll still import those, of course, we won’t get
them from the West Country….’

Rose
let her mind slip on to other things. She was beginning to feel rather sick
with apprehension. What if Cedric was not as she remembered him? What if her
recollections of him were flawed and unreliable? Worse, what if she was not as
he remembered. What if when he looked at her she saw only disappointment in his
eyes? It had been a very strange weekend after all at Ashgrove, even before the
murder had taken place and they had all come under suspicion…

It was
only after a minute or two that Rose realised that Josephine had stopped
talking and appeared to be as lost in her own thoughts as Rose was herself. The
two girls strolled on together for a little while in silence, which seemed to
get heavier with each step as Rose tried to think of something to say, fighting
against the desire to be quiet and alone.