British Manor Murder (11 page)

“Oh, my,” exclaimed Lucy, falling to her knees and cradling the fallen woman's head. She was sprawled on her back, legs and arms spread wide, and her giggles were interspersed with hiccups. “Are you all right?”

“She's more than all right,” said Gerald, stepping through the door. “She's blotto. Stinking drunk.”

“What should we do with her?” asked Sue. “We can't leave her here.”

“Come on, dearie,” said Gerald, grabbing her by her hands. “Upsy-daisy.”

Lucy and Sue each took a shoulder and together the three managed to get Vickie on her feet, then Gerald took over, wrapping his arm around her waist and supporting her as they made their way to the kitchen door. There, Poppy took one long, cool look at the situation and immediately left the room.

“I guess I'll be sleeping in my dressing room tonight,” grumbled Gerald as he deposited Vickie in a big armchair.

She giggled a few more times, then passed out.

“We can't leave her like this,” said Sue. “Someone should stay with her.”

“Well, it can't be me,” said Gerald. “I'm in enough trouble as it is.”

“I guess it's us,” said Lucy. “I'll go up and get some blankets and pillows.”

When she returned with the bedding, Vickie was snoring loudly. Lucy and Sue quickly made up beds on the sofas for themselves, then took turns climbing back upstairs to wash up and change into pajamas. Once she was tucked in, Lucy found the sofa quite comfortable, but wasn't really able to sleep. She feared Vickie would be sick and there was the possibility she could choke on her vomit. Sue didn't seem to share Lucy's anxiety; she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Lucy dozed off from time to time, only to waken with a start then be reassured by Vickie's regular snores,

Soon after the grandfather clock chimed four times, she did finally fall asleep, only to be wakened around six by Harrison.

“My word,” the maid was exclaiming, “this is a pretty kettle of fish.” She was standing with arms akimbo, surveying the unusual scene. After she'd taken it all in, she sniffed. “Don't tell me that dreadful pong is over here now.”

“Not that I know of,” said Lucy. “We were worried about her”—she nodded toward Vickie slumped in the chair with a blanket balled up in her lap. “She was a bit under the weather.”

“Humph,” said Harrison. “It's none of my affair. I've got to get her ladyship her morning tea.” She filled the kettle from the sink, then set it on the Aga with a clatter. “Her ladyship didn't get a wink last night, the smell was that bad.”

Lucy stood up, considered folding up her bedding and decided instead to head upstairs to the bathroom for a much-needed pee. She certainly didn't want to waste the climb, however, so she gathered up the sheets and blanket and pillow in her arms. After she'd completed her original mission, she remade the stripped bed, then washed up and dressed, before going back downstairs to make some coffee.

Her curiosity got the better of her while she waited for the coffee to be ready. She decided to investigate and made her way through the underground tunnel to the manor house and up the stairs to the landing. When she opened the door to the hallway, a noticeable stench greeted her. It wasn't as strong as the smell Harrison had described so she proceeded down the hallway, discovering the offensive odor grew stronger with every step. When she reached the midpoint, she found she really couldn't go on. The evil stench was so overpowering she feared she would vomit. She turned and fled back to the fresher air in the stairway.

Definitely not a mouse, she decided, but something much larger.

Chapter Ten

W
hen Lucy returned to the kitchen, the coffee pot was full of aromatic, freshly brewed coffee and there was no trace of the previous night's events. Vickie was gone, as was the bedding Sue had used. Sue herself was dressed and made up to her usual perfection. Perry was setting out boxes of cereal and bowls, along with fresh strawberries and a pitcher of milk.

“Help yourselves, ladies,” he said, inviting them to partake. “I've got to run. I've got to put the finishing touches on the hat exhibit.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “But first I've got to deal with the pong. It's become quite atrocious and we've had to close the manor to the public.”

“It sure is. I got a whiff and it made me feel quite sick,” said Lucy.

“What is it with you?” asked Sue, who was filling her mug. “Have you got a tummy bug?”

“I don't think so,” said Lucy, who was eying the strawberries. “I'm okay now. I'm even hungry.”

“It's enough to make anyone sick,” said Perry. “I have got to get rid of it before tomorrow. Poppy thinks we can get away with one day without attracting unwanted attention, but if we have to close it for longer, we'll end up on the evening news.” He was standing at the island, sipping coffee from a mug. “Speaking of pleasanter things, I was working with the art students yesterday, you know, and I've got to say, even though I shouldn't, that the hat show is really quite fantastic.”

“I can't wait to see it,” said Sue.

“Well, do drop in anytime and tell me what you think,” said Perry, stashing his mug in the dishwasher. “I would really appreciate your input, as they say.”

“Okay,” said Sue, who was filling her mug. “I'll go take a look.”

“As for me, ‘it is a far, far better thing that I do . . .' ” he said, quoting Dickens and wrapping a handkerchief across his face, bandit-style. “ ‘All in the valley of death rode the six hundred,' ” he continued, moving on to Tennyson and grabbing an umbrella from the stand. For dramatic effect, he flourished it like a sword.

“Such a fuss,” said Sue, smiling indulgently.

“It is truly dreadful,” he said, loosening the handkerchief and letting it hang around his neck. “I don't blame Aunt for complaining, but I've looked and looked in her room and can't find anything.”

“Perhaps there's a secret chamber,” said Sue.

“I rather doubt it, since nobody's ever mentioned one and it would be rather an attraction if we had one. We don't even have a ghost, which a lot of our visitors find disappointing. They simply love the idea of Katherine Howard's ghost shrieking her innocence at Hampton Court, apparently wandering about with her head tucked under her arm. I've asked Willoughby to do some research, but he hasn't come up with anything along those lines.” He sighed and replaced the handkerchief over his nose. “ ‘Into the jaws of death, Into the mouth of hell,' ” he declared, marching out of the room.

Sue had only coffee for breakfast, but Lucy was used to eating a hearty breakfast so she busied herself filling her bowl with several Weetabix biscuits, topped them with a couple scoops of luscious berries, and drowned it all in deliciously rich double cream.

“That cream is twice as rich as heavy cream,” said Sue, watching with a raised eyebrow.

“Tastes like it, too,” said Lucy, licking her spoon.

“A minute on the lips, a year on the hips,” Sue added, then left to view the exhibit, taking her coffee mug with her.

Finding herself alone in the kitchen and noticing the sunlight flooding through the windows, Lucy decided to take her breakfast out to the terrace. She seated herself at a glass-topped table, savoring both her delicious breakfast and the incredible beauty of the manor house. She gazed at the ancient stone building while she ate, taking note of the intricate stone carvings and marveling at the work of the medieval stone carvers and masons who'd created them. There were gargoyles and pointy little turrets topped with graceful finials, and each window had an elaborately worked casing with rosettes at each corner. The stair tower, she decided, was especially fine with its neat oriel windows which rose in a spiral fashion, winding around the tower. A lacy band of carved stonework emphasized the unusual window placement, and ended at a huge round clock face with carved roman numerals and single massive black iron hand. The clock, a sixteenth century masterpiece, was still keeping time and ringing out the hours. It was no wonder that the stair tower had been chosen as a symbol to represent the manor and appeared on the admission tickets, most of the gift shop merchandise like mugs and tea towels, as well as all the promotional material.

As she studied the beautiful stair tower, she found something was bothering her. Something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't figure it out. In her mind, she climbed the stairs, retracing the climb she'd made on that first day when Willoughby gave her and Sue a tour. They'd progressed up the spiraling flights of shallow steps, designed, Willoughby had said, so that ladies in long skirts could glide gracefully up and down. The oriel windows followed the line of the stairs, set aslant, and offering impressionistic views of the estate park through wavy old glass. Each landing offered a window seat in case the climber should grow tired and need a rest . . . or perhaps a perch for a quick dalliance.

She was still gazing at the elaborate staircase and spooning up the last bit of strawberries and cream when Sue appeared. She was carrying her jacket and tote bag on her arm and was ready to go out for the day.

“Don't tell me you're still eating?” she exclaimed. “Our driver is here and times a-wasting.”

“No problem,” said Lucy, remembering that she and Sue had planned to spend the day touring Windsor Castle. “I'll just take the breakfast things in and grab my bag. I won't be a moment.”

Hurrying into the kitchen, she was happy to see that Sally was at the sink loading the dishwasher. “I've got a few more for you,” Lucy said, handing off the tray. Then she bounded up the stairs, pausing in her room only to grab her bag and a light jacket, and to slap on some lipstick. She dashed down, quick as a bunny, and met Sue on the terrace.

They had a different driver, a young fellow they hadn't met before. “I'm Justin Quimby,” he said, introducing himself. He looked like a younger version of Harold, albeit with sun-bleached hair and a muscular build.

“Are you related to Harold?” asked Sue.

“I'm his son,” he said, opening the car doors for them.

“And you work here, too?” asked Lucy, as Sue grabbed the front passenger seat and she climbed in the back.

“Only part-time. I'm at university.”

“Which university?” asked Sue as he got behind the wheel of the Land Rover.

“Cambridge,” he said, shifting into gear and taking off down the drive. He drove much faster than his father.

“And what are you studying?” asked Lucy.

“Physics.”

“Oh,” said Lucy, realizing she'd gone as far as she could on that line of conversation. “And what do you do for fun?”

“I'm kind of a keen climber,” he admitted, swerving to avoid a bus full of day-trippers.

“Mountains?” asked Sue. “Like Mount Everest?”

“No, that sort of thing isn't for me. All that packing and planning. I like to go freestyle, without equipment. I see something interesting and I climb it. Most of my climbs are about twenty or thirty minutes.”

“What can you climb in twenty minutes?” asked Lucy.

“Oh, say, church towers, cliffs, all sorts of things.”

“Isn't it dangerous?” asked Sue.

“Especially if you don't use ropes and stuff,” added Lucy.

“Well, that's the point, isn't it?” asked Justin, zooming onto the highway between two large trucks.

“We'd actually prefer to get to Windsor in one piece,” said Lucy as Justin wove his way through traffic, seizing the tiniest openings to pass slower cars and trucks.

“Relax, Lucy. Justin is a very good driver,” said Sue, giving him her most flirtatious smile.

“It's my tummy again,” said Lucy, who never got carsick or seasick or airsick, but would say anything to get Justin to drive more carefully. “I'm feeling . . .”

Justin, she was happy to see, took the hint and eased up on the gas.

Sue, however, wasn't pleased. “You shouldn't have eaten such a rich breakfast,” she said, admonishing Lucy.

“I know that now,” said Lucy, relaxing her hold on the grab bar. Her fingers were quite stiff, she realized, massaging them briefly until Justin made another sharp swerve around a poky van and she had to hang on for dear life.

They made it to Windsor, much to Lucy's amazement, and Justin dropped them off at the entrance to the castle, arranging to meet them at the train station at four o'clock. After paying the hefty entrance fee, they entered the walled castle enclosure and were amazed at the size of the complex, which included numerous buildings around the old round tower. They dutifully trooped through amazing rooms, including the magnificent banquet hall that had been restored after a devastating fire.

Sue was impressed by Henry VIII's enormous suit of armor, which she said with a meaningful glance in Lucy's direction, was an excellent example of the effect of an untamed appetite. Lucy preferred the Queen's Dolls House, a replica of Buckingham Palace that had been made as a present for Queen Mary and featured tiny versions of the castle's contents contributed by British manufacturers. Saint George's Chapel, where Henry VIII and his favorite wife, Jane Seymour, were buried was the last stop on the tour.

“It's a fine example of perpendicular architecture,” said Sue, reading from the guide. She looked up at the lofty ceiling and added, “I guess that means it's quite tall.”

“It's spooky,” said Lucy, gazing at the stone tablets marking the royal graves. “Henry VIII was a terrible man. If you ask me, six wives is five too many.”

“I guess being able to have and do whatever you want, including having your wives beheaded, probably isn't good for your character. And if that suit of armor is an accurate indication, he must have been a glutton,” said Sue, adding a little moue of distaste.

She pointed to the little balcony in one corner. It hung beneath the ceiling and was completely enclosed with wood paneling except for a small window. “That's called the queen's closet. It's where the queen and her ladies sat, able to watch without being watched.”

Lucy gazed at the odd little feature, imagining what it was like to be a queen in the sixteenth century and concluding that despite her humble status, she was much better off as an ordinary middle-class woman in the twenty-first century.

“On to the gift shop,” declared Sue, snapping the guidebook shut.

Lucy dutifully followed her friend to the shop, where she wondered if her friends at home would really appreciate Windsor Castle refrigerator magnets. She was browsing through the assorted wares when she spotted some lovely tapestry pillows she found hard to resist. She was wondering what she could sacrifice in order to fit the pillows in her small carry-on suitcase when one of the sales clerks caught her eye.

“You can just buy the covers,” she said with a smile.

Lucy picked up one of the pillows, which was done in rich reds and blues, and realized it was exactly like a pillow she'd seen at the manor. There were actually three of them in a row on the window seat in the second-floor landing—one each beneath a narrow lancet window.

That was it, she realized. The second landing had three windows but the other landings in the staircase had four. And now that she came to think of it, that second-floor landing was smaller than the ground floor landing and the one above it.

“Do you want to eat here? I'm sure there's a café somewhere,” said Sue, studying her guidebook.

“Not really. As a matter of fact, I'd like to go back to the manor. There's something I want to check out.”

Sue did not like that idea at all. “Don't be silly, Lucy. This is probably our one time to be in Windsor and the book says the town is worth exploring—lots of shops and restaurants. There's also Eton College and you know you want to see that. Besides, we arranged for Justin to pick us up at four. I'm sure he has other responsibilities to attend to.”

“I'm really not all that keen,” confessed Lucy. “These old buildings are all starting to look alike to me. We could call him and ask if it would be convenient . . .”

Sue placed a hand on Lucy's forehead, checking to see if she had a fever. “That doesn't sound like you at all, Mrs. Can't Miss a Museum. And besides, these English people are so polite that he'd never admit it wasn't convenient to pick us up early.”

“I know. You're right, but I've been thinking about the manor and I think I know where your secret chamber is located.”

“It was just a notion,” said Sue as they walked down the hill to the town. “Perry says there's no secret chamber. Besides, I'm awfully hungry, I had only coffee for breakfast. I want to eat something.”

This was such an unusual admission from Sue that Lucy decided her exploration of the staircase could wait a few hours. Besides, she told herself, Sue was probably right and the secret chamber would turn out to be a bathroom or a closet added when the manor was modernized. She was hungry, too, and she had to admit that the town was charming, with ancient buildings lining narrow winding streets, and there were plenty of restaurants to choose from. They settled on a sleek, modern café that featured soups and salads, then continued exploring the town after they'd eaten. Following the path of least resistance, they strolled downhill toward the River Thames, where they paused on a bridge to admire a handsome flock of swans. Then they found themselves at Eton College, the famous establishment prep school, where they spotted a couple students in their distinctive uniforms with long black jackets and waistcoats.