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Authors: Carola Dunn

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BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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“Because you love him. But do I love Ceddie? Enough?” Felicity sighed. “Never mind, it's all water under the bridge, now. Either he
is
going to be an earl, in which case I may as well marry him and find out whether I love him, if he still wants to marry me after I was so beastly. Or else he'll be arrested for murder, and that's the end of that.”
“Ye-es. You don't seem very upset to think he might be a murderer.”
“I suppose that really, at the back of my mind, I find it absolutely impossible to believe he killed Calloway. Daisy, your husband wouldn't make a mistake about it, would he? He wouldn't arrest Ceddie if he didn't do it?”
“Certainly not,” said the loyal wife, wishing she had met Cedric Norville to judge him for herself. Could Felicity's perfect gentleman actually be an utter rotter who would stab an innocent, if irritating, clergyman in the back? And if so, could Felicity herself be his accomplice, and her talk
of confused emotions no more than a smoke-screen?
All in all, Daisy had learnt nothing to reassure her that Cedric would not attempt to escape justice by drowning the detective who was on his trail.
T
he walk down the steep drive to Brockdene Quay revived Cedric. He was almost jaunty as he led Alec and Piper across the cobbles to a small fishing dory moored to the wharf.
“A bit primitive,” he apologized, as Alec climbed down into the boat, whose accommodation consisted of two rowing benches. “Belongs to a man I know. Hope he didn't want to go fishin' this mornin'. I keep a sailin' dinghy on the river in the summer, but this is actually better for just buzzin' across now and then.”
He followed Alec, and held the boat to a ring on the wall with the boathook while Piper cast off and joined them. Alec and Piper squeezed onto one bench. Cedric sat down facing them on the other and pushed off. As he fitted his oars into the rowlocks, it crossed Alec's mind that with one good swipe of an oar in the middle of the river Cedric might be able to dispose of both his captors at once.
Piper had quietly possessed himself of the boathook, Alec noted with approval. He himself watched Cedric's expression,
alert for any sign of increasing tension which might prelude an attack.
The effort of rowing the heavy-laden boat showed, yet the young man's expression grew more relaxed as they drew out into the stream. The river was still as brown as when Alec had looked down on it yesterday from the site of the murder, but it was less turbulent. There was less debris, too, he thought, sparing a mite of his attention from Cedric's face.
The odd branch still floated by, though, including one large enough and close enough for Piper to shove it away with the boathook.
“Wasn't it rather dangerous rowing across on your own in the dark last night?” Alec asked.
“This old tub's strongly built, and for these waters.” Cedric grinned. “But you're right, I was probably a bally ass to do it so soon after the storm. Still, when a fellow's keen on a girl, you know …”
“Swimming the Hellespont,” said Piper unexpectedly.
“That's the ticket,” Cedric agreed with approval, glancing over his shoulder to check his course. “Those old Greeks knew a thing or two. Wasn't that the one with the hero called Henley?”
“Leander.” Piper sounded uncertain, whether about his facts or about contradicting a gentleman.
“I believe the Henley rowing club was named after him,” Alec put in, fascinated by the contrasting results of Piper's board school and Cedric's public school education.
Or was Cedric deliberately trying to appear a fool? “Ah yes, knew it was somethin' to do with rowin'. So this hero chappy rowed across the Hellespont, whatever that may be but I gather it was a longish trip, to see his girl, who had
a funny sort of name, if I've got the right one.”
“Hero,” said Piper.
“The hero was Leander; we've got that straightened out.”
“And the heroine was Hero,” Piper insisted.
Cedric stared, rowing rhythmically the while. “No, you don't say so?
Dashed
funny name for a girl. I expect you know what the Hellespont was, too, eh?”
Piper blushed. “It's part of the Dardanelles, where we fought the Turks. But Leander didn't row, he swam across.”
“Well, you jolly well wouldn't catch me swimmin' the Tamar in December, even for Miss Norville, especially after a storm. Come to that, I don't know that I'd have risked rowin' it on Christmas Eve, right after the gale, even if I'd been able to get away. Which I couldn't, and now I can tell you why, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Why you couldn't get away,
and
why you couldn't tell me, and why you can tell me now, I trust?” Alec said dryly.
“You can blame that dashed brat, Flick's sister. Little sneak, always listenin' at doors, Flick says, and tellin' tales, too. I dare say that's how you got onto me, isn't it? I'd swear Flick never told, even if she is givin' me the boot.”
“I can't reveal my sources of information.” An automatic response, not only rather pompous, Alec thought, but in this case futile since Felicity would tell him Jemima had given them away, assuming they got back together. “What did you not care for Jemima to hear?” he asked irritably.
“It wasn't so much that I didn't want Jemima to hear, but she was bound to tell Flick and the rest of the family and I didn't—
don't
want them to know. You'll keep it under your hat, my dear chap, won't you? Oh, hold on a mo'.
Here we are. Grab that rope, would you, old man?”
As he shipped his oars, Piper grabbed the rope. It was tied to a stake stuck in the river bed on the edge of the reeds. A narrow channel cut through the shoulder-high reeds, which rustled and creaked in the breeze. Pulling on the rope, Cedric hauled the boat along the channel until they came to a rickety wooden landing stage.
Cautiously, Alec stepped out and moved quickly onto firm ground. At the end of his patience, he turned and asked, “Just what do you want me to keep under my hat, Mr. Norville?”
“Where I was on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, of course,” said Cedric, surprised. “Where we all were, come to that. All the family. It would hurt Flick to know because she and her family weren't invited. Never are.”
“Invited where?” Alec bellowed. The sight of Piper suppressing a snicker did not improve his temper.
Piper also whipped out his note-book and one of the well-sharpened pencils always present in his breast pocket. He apparently believed the moment of revelation was at last at hand.
“To Tavy Bridge.” Cedric straightened after securing the painter. “My uncle's place. Or, at least, not really my uncle of course. He's my second cousin once removed, or somethin' of the sort, don't you know. Lord Westmoor. We go every Christmas, and stay the night on Christmas Eve. It's over beyond Tavistock, on the edge of Dartmoor. Too far to stroll back in the hopes of seein' Flick, who wasn't expectin' me, even if I could have sneaked out amid all the song and dance and general merry-makin'. Which I couldn't. And didn't,” he ended on a triumphant note.
Alec groaned, foreseeing the possibility of having to send
someone to Tavy Bridge to check Cedric's alibi.
“I say, now that I've told you, you don't need to talk to the parents, do you? Never fear, I'll row you back across.” He crouched to untie the painter again.
“Not so fast! I most certainly must see Mr. and Mrs. Norville, and anyone else who went with you to Lord Westmoor's.”
“Dash it, can't you accept a man's word … ? No, I suppose you can't. But there's no need to tell them why you're askin', is there?”
Alec considered, keeping Cedric on tenterhooks for a change. “No, for my purposes it's probably better if they don't know exactly what's going on. You want to keep them in the dark?”
“No point upsettin' the old dears over Flick and me if she's not goin' to marry me.”
“If I don't explain why I want to know about your movements, they'll surely ask you.”
“True,” Cedric said gloomily. “Oh well, I expect I'll think up something to tell them that doesn't bring her into it, without actually lyin', of course. Righty-ho, let's get on with it. If 'twere done when 'twere done, then 'twere well 'twere done quickly, or words to that effect. All those 'tweres, but he had it dead to rights often as not, old Shakespeare, didn't he? Dashed clever chap. Like the Greeks.”
On that cheerful thought, Cedric set out to conduct Alec and Piper across a soggy meadow towards the lane which led to his home. He seemed very sure of himself. Alec sighed. “Too far” was a relative term in these days of motor cars and motor-bicycles. Proving—or disproving—the young man's alibi was liable to be a hell of a job.
 
 
Leaving Felicity distastefully sipping her now cold tea, Daisy paused on the landing. She wanted to go and look for Sergeant Tring, a great friend of hers. He would tell her not to worry, Alec knew how to look after himself. Or if there really was good reason to worry, he'd do something about it.
No, if there was any danger, Tom wouldn't have let Alec go off without him. Besides, he must be in the middle of interviewing the servants; an interruption could throw him off his stride. What Daisy ought to do next was check the whereabouts of Belinda and Derek. Obsessed as they were with secret drawers and passages, they might be pestering Godfrey, who had left the breakfast table in no mood to be troubled by children.
Daisy headed for the old house, through the dining room. Dora had left and Miles had joined his uncle. The two men were so deep in earnest conversation that they didn't notice Daisy's arrival until she shut the door behind her. Then they looked up, both with glum expressions, and gave her strained smiles. She wished she'd heard what they were discussing so unhappily. Or rather, what they were saying about it, for the subject was surely the murder.
“Good morning, Daisy,” said Miles, beginning to stand.
“Good morning. Don't get up. I'm just passing through, looking for the children. I didn't mean to disturb you.”
“Not at all. Won't you sit down a minute and have another cup of coffee? Uncle Vic says you went to talk to my sister.”
Though she sat down, Daisy said firmly, “I can't tell you what Felicity said.”
“Of course not, dear lady,” said the captain. “Wouldn't dream of asking you. The thing is, with her young man
arrested for doing in the Reverend, she's going to need some distraction. She has a dull enough time of it down here as it is, poor thing. It's all very well for a child, but a young lady needs to see a bit of life.”
“My uncle has very generously offered to give Flick an allowance to keep her in London for a few months and buy some pretty dresses.”
“Pooh, pooh! I've got a nice little nest-egg tucked away for when I retire, but present need, you know! What comfort is there for a man if his family's unhappy?”
“The trouble being,” said Miles, “as you'll realize of course, Daisy, that if Flick's to meet the right sort of people, she'll need someone to introduce her about a bit. Mother has no friends in town, even if she could be persuaded to leave Father, which I doubt. And he'll never agree to leave Brockdene for weeks on end.”
“Damn fool!” the captain exploded.
“Sir, I can't let …”
“Keep your hair on, lad. If a man can't damn his own brother, who can he … ? Beg your pardon, Mrs. Fletcher! But if God had just bestirred himself to get about a bit, kept up with fellows from school and got to know people other than his stuffy historians, we wouldn't be stymied now.”
“I'm in touch with friends from school and the army,” Miles said ruefully, “but they're not much use to Flick if she has no one to chaperone her. I hope you don't think I'm hinting that you should take her on, Daisy. You have your career, and Belinda, to cope with. We just hoped you might have some idea of how to go about this.”
“I haven't the foggiest,” said Daisy, rising, “but I'll put my mind to it and maybe I'll come up with something.”
Crossing the Hall, she wondered whether her mother might enjoy sponsoring a girl for a few months in London. She had made a huge fuss when Daisy refused to take advantage of what travesty of the social season survived during the War. However, the sort of society the Dowager Viscountess frequented was probably higher than Felicity could hope to fly. In any case, in the unlikely—considering the circumstances—event that Lady Dalrymple let herself be persuaded, Daisy wasn't sure she wanted to subject anyone to weeks of her mother's company.
What had sprung to her mind, as soon as she realized what the captain proposed, was that he should instead support Felicity while she worked her way into the fashion business. Daisy couldn't suggest that, though, without consulting Felicity.
The problem would not arise if Cedric was innocent and still wanted to marry Felicity, and she decided to marry him.
It worried Daisy that all the Brockdene Norvilles complacently assumed his guilt. If he proved an alibi, suspicion would come squarely back here to rest, and it would come as a nasty shock. Still, in all probability they were right; Cedric had killed Calloway. Alec would arrest him and that would be the end of that, so there was no point in Daisy bothering her head about it. Where
were
the children?
She glanced into the Drawing Room. No sign of Bel and Derek investigating the Italian cabinet, but Godfrey was there, sitting at the Queen Anne desk. He appeared to be having trouble answering a letter which lay before him, for the one he was writing hadn't progressed beyond the salutation. Or else he was understandably lost in unhappy reflection on the events of the past few days. He didn't raise
his bowed head when Daisy looked in, so she didn't disturb him.
Remembering that the desk in the South Room was supposed to have hidden drawers, she crossed through the Red Room to check whether Bel and Derek were investigating it. No sign of them, but she was reminded that she had never seen the squint to the Hall, because of meeting Jemima there. She pulled back the tapestry in the corner, stepped into the alcove behind, and looked down on the Hall.
BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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