A Mourning Wedding (12 page)

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Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: A Mourning Wedding
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I
n the spacious drawing room, Daisy found many of the family assembled in gloomy huddles. Perhaps there was a feeling of safety in numbers. Alec had forbidden them to leave, yet after two deaths, tennis or bridge would hardly be decent. The dressing bell, still customary at Haverhill, had not yet rung. The hour was too early for cocktails, which Daisy was sure many were longing for.
Binkie was being talked at by Angela. He hastily extricated himself and came to meet Daisy. His usual calm taciturnity was not now in evidence. “Daisy, what's this maggot Lucy's got into her head about not marrying me? What have I done?”
“It's not anything you've done. She just—”
“I've managed to get hold of the latest prototype Leica camera for her, to prove I mean to let her go on with her photography. Now I daren't give it to her in case she thinks it's a bribe. Can't you persuade her to give me another chance?”
“I'm sorry, Binkie, I—”
“Don't call me Binkie!” he said wildly. “Please don't. It's an asinine nickname. How can she take me seriously when people call me Binkie?”
“I'm sorry. Gerald, then. Look, we can't talk here.” She saw Sally
approaching from one side and Flora from the other, with Jennifer hovering nearby. “Later.”
“Meet me in the conservatory after dinner.”
“Right-oh.” Daisy wasn't keen on returning to the scene of Lord Fotheringay's death, but on the spur of the moment she couldn't think of anywhere else almost certain to be private.
She turned to Sally, whom she hadn't seen since breakfast. The new Lady Fotheringay was pale and drawn. Her black frock was the sort that can be dressed up for any occasion with the right scarf, belt, and jewellery. Worn plain, for mourning, it didn't suit her at all.
“It's disgraceful!” she snapped before Daisy could express condolences. “My mother-in-law and Lord and Lady Haverhill are distraught over this ridiculous suggestion that my father-in-law's death was not natural. The police have no business making such unfounded assertions, just to make themselves look more important.”
“I assure you, Alec would not—”
“Do dry up, Sally!” Flora's discreet make-up could not hide the angry flags flying in her cheeks. No love lost between the sisters-in-law, Daisy noted. “You're only making a dreadful situation worse. The police are doing all they can, and if they weren't, Mrs. Fletcher's not to blame.”
“It's all very upsetting,” said Daisy soothingly. “I shan't take offence.”
“Well!” Perhaps Sally had intended to give offence. At any rate, she flounced off.
“How can anyone with such an impeccable pedigree be so thoroughly ill-bred?” said Flora. “You'd think my brother had picked her up at some music hall's stage door. I wish he would hurry up and come home to keep her under control.”
“He rules the roost?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely. Rupert is quite prepared to exert himself for his own comfort. I think at first he found her shrewishness amusing, but when she started alienating the wives of his fellow officers, he
put his foot down. She definitely dances to his tune. Mind you, he can't be easy to live with.”
“No?”
“He's very expensive, and he finds it humiliating to keep coming with his hand out to Grandfather. He likes to entertain, so Sally has to keep up appearances, but I know for a fact that she has to do more than her share of scrimping and saving. I doubt her family helps. It's one of those ancient lineages with lots of blue blood but no money.”
“Did Lord Haverhill help you when you started your business? Not that it's any affair of mine, but I was thinking I'd like to write an article, maybe even a series, about women running their own businesses.”
“There are plenty of us since the War. I'll be happy to talk about it, but not just now.”
“No, I'm sorry, it's the wrong moment. I haven't had a chance to say how sorry I am about your father.”
“Daddy of all people!” Flora was once again furiously angry. “He was the kindest, gentlest person I've ever known. Your husband is going to find out what happened, isn't he? I told him I'll do anything in my power to help.”
“Do you know anything that might help?”
“Not that I can think of. Oh Lord, here comes Rupert.”
The new Lord Fotheringay was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sweeping moustache and the ramrod-straight swagger expected of a Household Cavalry officer. The crown and star of a lieutenant colonel adorned his khaki battle-dress, presumably donned for the regimental manoeuvres he had abandoned to rush home. He was young for the rank, but so many officers of the Life Guards had died in Flanders that those who survived advanced rapidly.
“Do you know him, Daisy?” asked Flora, watching in disgust as Sally ran to her husband and flung herself into his arms, sobbing.
“I met him when I came to visit with Lucy from school. We
thought he was the last word in dashing young men. I'd be surprised if he remembered me.”
Rupert bowed his head to speak softly in his wife's ear. When he looked up, his great-uncle Montagu was bearing down on them. With an impatient gesture, Rupert said something to the old gentleman, then steered Sally out of the room with a hand under her elbow.
Montagu turned away, flushed and crestfallen. Daisy was surprised to see him after his distraught state in the morning. He seemed to have recovered his equilibrium, so much so that she couldn't help wondering whether his earlier shock and horror had been real. Suppose he had been so assiduous at passing on his club gossip to Lady Eva only because she was blackmailing him?
Daisy wished she had access to Ernie Piper's notes, just so she could narrow down the field of suspects. For all she knew, the murderer could be absolutely anyone who had been in the house last night.
“Rupert is the absolute pink limit!” said Flora, exasperated. “I'd better go and see if I can smooth Uncle Montagu's ruffled feathers without suggesting my brother's rudeness is my fault.”
As Flora left, several possible murderers converged upon Daisy.
Nancy: no, she couldn't believe Lucy's sister-in-law had a guilty secret she'd kill to protect. Tim was probably still providing his suddenly widowed aunt Maud with the consolations of religion.
Lord and Lady Carleton: Daisy still hadn't worked out just what their relationship to the Haverhills was. She was simply not well enough acquainted with them to hazard a guess as to whether they might have any guilty secrets.
Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft: as Lady Eva's granddaughter and grandson-in-law, they must be high on Alec's list, but they claimed not to have expected an inheritance. Daisy disliked Mrs. Bancroft because of her scorn for her sister Angela, but her dislike was not enough to brand the woman a murderer, alas. How easy that would make a murder investigation!
Jennifer Walsdorf reached her first. “Lord Gerald says he's going to stay the night. I take it your husband will share your room?”
“If he's not up all night interviewing people.”
“What about the sergeant and the young man who just arrived? Mrs. Maple, the housekeeper, has never had to provide accommodations for the police before and she's twittering about where to put them.”
“They usually stay at the nearest inn.”
“Oh, I'm sure Lord Haverhill would want to give them a bed.”
“Then consider Mr. Tring on a level with a visiting valet, I should think, and DC Piper as a footman. Though I don't suppose they'd mind sharing a room.”
“A valet wouldn't lower himself to share with a footman!” Jennifer said with an effortful smile. “But in any case, they can have a room each. We've plenty of space as John has managed to stop most people turning up. Those who arrived in time for lunch have already buzzed off again, with the permission of the police.”
“John's very efficient.”
“I wish Rupert would recognize that fact. Still, we've always known we couldn't stay here forever. Poor Uncle Aubrey's death has just hastened the inevitable.”
Nancy Fotheringay had come up in time to hear Jennifer's words. “You and John and the baby will always be welcome at the vicarage,” she said tranquilly. “It's a huge old place, far bigger than we need.”
“We don't want charity.”
“We're not too far from London. John is bound to find work quickly. And you can help me with the children and the parish work, if you like. There is always too much to do.”
“You're an angel, Nancy!” Jennifer kissed her on the cheek. “It will be a big relief to have somewhere to lay our heads, however temporary, when the moment comes. Now, I know you want to talk to Daisy, and I must go and confer with Mrs. Maple.”
“Will Rupert really turn them out when he inherits?” Daisy asked Nancy as soon as Jennifer was out of earshot.
“It wouldn't surprise me. Rupert has a mean streak in him. But Timmy would say I'm being un-Christian. Daisy, Tim asked me to ask you whether your husband can say with any certainty whether Uncle Aubrey died a natural death or not. It might be some consolation to his poor aunt to know that he was not cut off before his time.”
“Alec doesn't tell me much,” Daisy said cautiously, “and he won't commit himself till he has the post-mortem results, but I believe he has evidence that points to murder.”
“Oh, we're none of us safe!” Lady Carleton moaned. The others had crowded around by now, and Nancy slipped away. “Denzil, you must insist that the police let us take Ursula home.”
“Mr. Fletcher might be persuaded to let us have Tomkins drive her home,” said Lord Carleton, a sallow, long-faced man at least twenty years older than his wife. “We'll have to stick it out, though, old girl.”
Her ladyship's lips pursed, whether at this form of address or at the notion of letting her daughter go off with their chauffeur. “I suppose you don't care if
I'm
murdered,” she said sulkily.
“What we must do,” said Peter Bancroft, “is stick together. Never go anywhere alone, then the devil can't get you.”
“The devil is one of us, old boy,” Lord Carleton reminded him.
“It must have been an intruder,” said Veronica Bancroft petulantly. “The police ought to have found traces of someone breaking in by now.”
“One murder might have been an intruder, Ronnie.” Angela and her faithful shadow had joined the group. “Two must be one of us.”
“I keep telling you not to call me Ronnie! And if it's one of us, you have the best motive I know. You only care about those wretched curs of yours, not about people. I wouldn't put it past you to murder Grandmother to get her money for the horrid beasts.”
“Now, Veronica!” Peter remonstrated weakly.
Astonishingly, Tiddler summoned up the courage to snarl at his rescuer's sister, from his safe haven behind Angela's ankles.
Veronica backed away. “Get rid of it!” she shrilled.
Teddy Devenish, arriving, stooped to give the little dog an approving pat. “Know thine enemy,” he said with a grin. “Clever little scrap, Angie.”
“Peter!” Veronica appealed to her husband.
“Nothing to do with me. He's your brother.”
The Carletons and Daisy abstracted themselves from the brewing sibling strife. Daisy was immediately pounced upon by Lucy's mother.
“Daisy dear, do you know where Lucinda is? I simply can't find her anywhere.”
“Yes, Aunt Vickie, she's with Alec.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Fotheringay turned white. “Oh no! They've arrested Lucinda?”
 
When Lucy entered the library, Alec was annoyed. He hadn't yet had a chance to telephone Teddy Devenish's friends in Hampshire, and if he was ever granted a moment's peace to study Ernie's list of names, he'd want to interview those on it, not Lucy, whom he'd already seen. She had not been cooperative, and he wouldn't be surprised if she had now come with a complaint. He wasn't at all sure he could summon up the politeness to deal with her as he ought.
“What can I do for you?” he asked impatiently.
“I've come to see if I can do anything for you,” she said with her customary aplomb. “You didn't really ask me any questions before.”
Because she had walked out, as Alec managed to refrain from saying. “You had a rendezvous with your intended.”
“Who found Uncle Aubrey. Aunt Eva was one thing—you may think we're all frightfully callous, but no one mourned her much. Uncle Aubrey was different. Besides, two murders … Suppose
there's a third? So if answering your questions will help you find out who it was, ask away.”

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