Snobbery with Violence (19 page)

‘No, I think she is eccentric. It must be so terrible to have a philandering husband.’

‘That’s mostly what this lot do to pass the time,’ said Daisy cynically. ‘But we should tell the captain about Mary Gore-Desmond having stayed with them in London.’

But Rose was not to be allowed any chance of speaking to Harry after dinner. Her mother drew her aside in the drawing-room and said, ‘It has come to our ears that you have been seen spending a certain amount of time with Captain Cathcart. Now although your pa is grateful to him for his help and although his family background is impeccable, he does not have any money other than the money he earns. So he is, in effect, a tradesman.’

‘I have no interest in Captain Cathcart.’

‘I will determine it stays that way.’

When the men joined them in the drawing-room, Lady Polly stayed firmly by her daughter’s side.

She need not have bothered. There was no sign of the captain.

He was in the library with Becket and Daisy, having had a note from Daisy passed to him by Becket.

She told him all about Rose’s interview with Lady Hedley.

‘It’s beginning to look as if Hedley himself might be responsible for these murders, and that is going to be very hard to prove,’ said Harry. ‘But Lady Rose is surely safe. There will be a constable on duty outside her door tonight.’

Curzon had supervised the sandwiches and drinks to be taken up to the drawing-room. Now all that was left was to see that the various bedtime requests were taken up to the rooms.

Mrs Jerry Trumpington required a bedtime drink of hot milk and brandy; Miss Maisie Chatterton, cocoa; and so on. He ran his eyes down the list in his hand. At the bottom was tea, Indian, with milk and sugar for Constable Bickerstaff.

‘Who is Constable Bickerstaff?’ he shouted.

‘That must be the officer outside Lady Rose’s bedroom,’ said the cook.

‘I think it’s a bit much when common officers start using this place as a restaurant,’ grumbled Curzon.

He said to the second footman, John, ‘Get one of the housemaids to make a pot of tea and you carry it up. And take Mrs Trumpington’s drink and deliver Miss Chatterton’s cocoa as well.’

John collected the three drinks on a large tray and headed for the stairs. There was a back staircase in the castle for the servants, but most used the main staircase unless they were carrying down the slops. He delivered Maisie Chatterton’s cocoa first and then hurried along to the other tower, where Lady Rose and Mrs Trumpington had their rooms.

He thought sulkily, and not for the first time, that the gas should have remained lit. It was difficult balancing the tray and a candle. He put the tray down on a small table in the passage outside Mrs Trumpington’s room, put the glass of milk and brandy on a smaller tray and knocked at the door. He handed the tray to the lady’s maid and then turned and picked up the tray with the remaining drink from the table. He was heading up the tower stairs when he heard a voice call, ‘John!’

The voice was muffled and he could not tell if it came from a man or a woman. He set the tray down on the stairs and held his candle high. It was probably Mrs Trumpington complaining again. Probably a skin had formed on her milk and brandy. She had complained before.

He ran down and knocked on her door. ‘Anything up?’ he asked the lady’s maid.

‘No,’ she said, ‘and don’t knock again. Madam is just about to go to sleep.’

John sighed and went back up the stairs and picked up the tray. He approached the constable who was sitting on a chair outside Rose’s room.

‘Are you Bickerstaff?’ he asked haughtily.

‘That’s me.’

‘Here’s your tea.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

John grunted by way of reply and marched off down the stairs. He was already planning to try to find a position in a ‘regular’ household, one where they didn’t have murders or expect footmen to serve policemen.

Bickerstaff sipped the tea. It had a funny taste, but it was probably one of those foreign teas. Give him a good cup of Indian any day. But it was hot and strong and he drank it gratefully.

The tray with the tea was on the floor beside him. He bent down to pour himself another cup when he began to feel dizzy. His legs and arms were beginning to feel like lead. He slumped down onto the floor and with his last remaining strength kicked at the door of Rose’s bedroom and shouted faintly, ‘Help!’

Rose awoke with a start and rang the bell on her bedside table. Daisy came running in, crying, ‘Did you hear something? I heard something.’

‘Ask the constable if everything is all right,’ said Rose.

Daisy opened the door and screamed, ‘He’s dead! Oh, my God, he’s dead!’

If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for me
,

Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must be!

W.S. Gilbert

D
oors flew opened, voices shouted, guests and servants came running. Kerridge, now staying at the castle, appeared wrapped in a large Paisley dressing-gown to take charge.

Once more a servant was sent to Creinton to bring Dr Perriman. Kerridge bent over Bickerstaff and felt his pulse. Then, producing a large handkerchief, he covered his hand and gingerly lifted the lid of the teapot and sniffed.

‘He’s drugged,’ he said. ‘He’s not dead. I want the servant who brought up this tea to come to the study and I want to interview the kitchen staff. Some of you get Bickerstaff to a bed.’ He turned to Rose. ‘What alerted you?’

‘I heard a banging at my door,’ said Rose. ‘I think the poor man must have realized at the last minute that he had been drugged and hit the door.’

Curzon pushed forward. ‘It was John, the footman, who took the tea up.’

‘Whose idea was it to serve the constable with tea?’

‘It was on the list,’ wailed Curzon.

‘What list?’

‘There’s a list in the kitchen for all the late-night drinks that people may require in their rooms.’

‘And who makes up this list?’

‘It’s pinned up during the day in the main kitchen and various valets and lady’s maids write down what is required.’

‘Bring the list to my study. Ah, there you are, Judd. Get another officer to stand guard outside Lady Rose’s door and make sure he does not drink or eat anything while on duty.’

‘It was probably another of Mr Pomfret’s pranks,’ said Lady Sarah Trenton. She had flirted with both Freddy and Tristram to no avail and was feeling rejected and sour.

‘I’d better see them. Back to your rooms, everyone. I’ll talk to the footman first.’

Lady Polly fussed over her daughter as she helped her back into bed. ‘I will be so glad when we get you away from this dreadful place. I shall heave a sigh of relief when we can get you off to India with Mrs Trumpington.’

‘I’m not going.’

‘Yes, you are, and you are not taking that so-called maid, Daisy, with you. You will have a proper lady’s maid.’

Rose burst into tears. Lady Polly patted her shoulder and then snapped at Daisy, ‘Don’t just stand there. Do something.’

‘I think you should leave her to me,’ said Daisy firmly. ‘My lady, now is not the time to upset her by telling her she’s going to India.’

Lady Polly shifted from foot to foot. She had never known Rose to cry before. It was all too embarrassing.

‘Very well,’ she said curtly.

Rose’s father poked his head around the door. ‘Dreadful business,’ he said. ‘Place is full of murderers. I’ll send for two of the gamekeepers. They’ll do a better job of guarding Rose. Keep her in her room and get her meals sent up.’

Rose sobbed into her pillow.

‘Well . . . harrumph . . . don’t cry,’ said the earl. ‘Everything will look different in the morning.’

He and his wife left. Daisy hugged Rose, rocking her back and forth. ‘There, now, Daisy’s here, and as long as Daisy’s here you won’t be going to India.’

‘They’ll make me,’ wailed Rose.

‘Not if we run away.’

She handed Rose a handkerchief. Rose scrubbed her eyes and sat up. ‘Run away?’

‘Why not? We could go back home after this is all over and really make sure our typing is perfect. Then we wait till your parents are off visiting someone and off we go.’

‘But they’ll put Captain Cathcart on the job and he’ll find us!’

‘I think not, if we talk to him first. Think of it! You and me independent and free as the air, living in London.’

Rose smiled. ‘I am feeling better already. But I wonder who was out to get me this evening.’

Kerridge had taken a statement from John when a constable entered the study and said that Miss Frederica Sutherland was anxious to speak to him on a matter of importance.

‘Show her in,’ said Kerridge wearily.

Frederica, swathed in a pink satin robe, entered the room. ‘I thought you ought to know,’ she began.

‘Know what? Pray take a seat, Miss Sutherland.’

‘I saw him.’

‘Who?’

‘Sir Gerald Burke.’

‘When, and what was he doing?’

‘It was like this. I wanted a cup of cocoa, but it was late and the servants can get very uppity if you haven’t ordered in advance.’

‘Go on.’

‘I thought I would go down to the kitchens and make myself some. I opened my bedroom door a crack to make sure there was no one about. John the footman passed me carrying a tray. I waited to make sure he had really gone but I heard footsteps. I saw Sir Gerald go up the stairs after John, and then I heard a voice call, “John.” I thought that there were really too many people about, so I went back to bed.’

‘The voice that called out – man or woman?’

‘I couldn’t say. Could have been either. It sounded muffled somehow.’

‘Thank you, Miss Sutherland. We may have to speak to you again in the morning.’

After she had left, Kerridge drew forward a plan of the guests’ rooms. ‘That’s odd,’ he said. ‘Burke had no reason to be in that tower. He’s in the other one, the east tower.’

‘Maybe he was visiting one of the ladies,’ said Judd. ‘Although he looked a bit of a daisy to me.’

‘We’d better see him and find out what he was doing. Where’s Curzon and that list?’

At that moment the door opened and the butler walked in. ‘I cannot find it,’ he said. ‘The list has gone.’

Kerridge sighed. ‘Go and take another look. Send Sir Gerald Burke.’

‘He may be asleep.’

‘Then wake him!’ snapped Kerridge.

After ten minutes, Gerald appeared. He held out his wrists. ‘Put the handcuffs on,’ he said. ‘It’s a fair cop. Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Only in penny dreadfuls,’ said Kerridge. ‘Do sit down and tell us what you were doing in the west tower. You followed the footman, John, up the stairs. And yet your room is in the east tower.’

Gerald wrapped himself more closely in an elaborately embroidered dressing-gown. He extracted a long cigarette lighter, a gold cigarette case and a box of matches from his pocket and proceeded to light a cigarette with maddening slowness.

‘Sir Gerald. I am waiting!’

‘I lost the way,’ said Gerald. ‘Simple. I was half-way up when I saw the Trumpington female’s card. So easy to get lost in this pseudo-medieval horror.’

Kerridge consulted his notes. Harry had told him about Lady Hedley’s conversation with Rose and how Mary Gore-Desmond had been a guest of the Hedleys during the season.

He stared at Gerald, who smiled back through a wreath of cigarette smoke. Kerridge decided to take one of his leaps in the dark. ‘You were very friendly with Miss Gore-Desmond when she was staying with the Hedleys, were you not? In fact, her parents thought you might make a match of it.’

‘Ridiculous. I admit I did squire her about a bit. It was Hedley’s idea. He said he’d promised her parents to try to get her engaged but he said that maybe she would look more attractive to the fellows if I could be seen paying her a bit of attention. But she began to take me seriously and I knew I’d better get out or that desperate little thing would be suing me for breach of promise or something. Too, too fatiguing. Not as if she had much of a dowry, either.’

‘And when you found that out, that was when she became boring?’

‘Don’t inflict your middle-class morals on me, my dear, dear chap. One has to look after oneself in this wicked world. My tailor’s bills alone would keep someone like you in luxury.’

‘Were you intimate with her?’

‘I do not go around seducing virgins.’

‘So you say the reason you were in the west tower was because you lost your way? I find that hard to believe.’

‘Think, dear Super, just think what this wretched place is like at night. Hedley’s father went to great expense to get gas piped to the castle and now everyone who is anyone has electricity. The gaslight all over the house and in the corridors is turned off at night and we are all expected to collect our bed candles from the table in the hall.

‘I turned left at the first landing instead of right, that is all. A simple mistake. I must inform you, I am known to the crowned heads of Europe and am not in the way of having my word doubted by a common policeman.’

Kerridge comforted himself with a sudden vision of himself, three stone lighter, and twenty years younger, manning the barricades while the limp body of Sir Gerald hung from a lamp-post.

‘Sir Gerald, I would advise you to co-operate with the police. We are now looking on the death of Miss Gore-Desmond as murder.’

Gerald got languidly to his feet. ‘Oh, do let me know how you get on. Will that be all?’

‘For the moment.’

Gerald swanned out. ‘Insufferable little tick,’ raged Kerridge. ‘I’ll bet he did it.’

‘Doesn’t look to me as if he could do anything with any woman,’ said Judd.

‘Oh, that kind would lay the cat if there were money in it. Get the cook up here and then the rest of the kitchen staff. It’s going to be a long night.’

*  *  *

Fortunately for Rose, her mother had instructed the doctor to see her after he had examined the policeman. The sympathetic doctor reported back to Lady Polly that it would be unhealthy to keep her daughter confined to her room and might bring about a
crise de nerfs.

She went down for a late breakfast. There were only a few guests present. Rose knew that her mother, like some of the others, preferred to take breakfast in her room.