Snobbery With Violence (16 page)

A footman appeared from one of the rooms and stared at her in surprise. “May I help you, my lady?”

“I wanted to get up on the roof to look at the view,” said Rose. She had been told not to tell anyone, but surely that meant any of the guests, or Daisy.

“You go along to the right, my lady,” said the footman, “and you’ll find a door at the end. If you open it, there is a stone staircase which will take you up. Would you like me to escort you?”

“No, no, that will not be necessary. I’ll go on my own.”

Rose made her way along the corridor to the right. She came to the door the footman had mentioned and opened it. There was the staircase leading to the roof. There was still time to go back down to luncheon and tell Harry.

On the other hand, there would be the pleasure of solving the mystery and telling him she had done it all by herself.

Squaring her shoulders and wrapping the thick shawl she had brought tightly around her, she walked up. Another door. There was a large key in it and the lock looked as if it had been recently oiled. She unlocked the door and swung it open. A blast of cold air hit her face.

Rose stepped out onto the roof and shut the door behind her.

She looked around. No one in the immediate vicinity. The roof was flat, with four banks of chimneys sending out snakes of smoke which whirled about the roof.

Perhaps someone was on the other side of the banks of chimneys. She walked around them, peering through the sudden downdraft of smoke from the whirling cowls of the chimneys. She gasped and choked. Wiping her streaming eyes, she walked to the edge of the roof and took in a gulp of fresh air.

A low crenellated wall surrounded the edge of the roof. She
was at the back of the castle, where the walls plunged down, sheer into the black waters of the moat.

Rose turned and looked around. The smoke from the many fires seemed to be performing some mad snake-like dance, first bending this way and that, then running along the top of the roof, sent down by the chimney-cowls.

He
would
have to have modern chimneys, thought Rose. If he had put in tall, fake Tudor chimneys, the smoke would be carried away from the roof and into the air.

She turned back. There was a view of the village huddled near the castle like some poverty-stricken peasant seeking warmth.

Beyond the village, near the woods, she could see the puffs of smoke from the shotguns of the men after pheasant and hear the cracks of shot. So the men would not have been present at lunch anyway. Then through the village came Harry in his car, the car looking like a toy.

On impulse, she stood at the edge and shouted and waved.

An almighty shove in her back sent her hurtling over the edge. Rose screamed and screamed as she hurtled down past the sheer walls of the castle and straight down into the moat.

Becket was seated beside his master in the open car as they drove along the winding road which approached the back of the castle. He was gazing gloomily at the castle when he saw to his amazement a tiny figure up on the roof, waving and shouting.

“Sir,” said Becket, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the engine, “there is someone on the castle roof. Oh, my God, they’ve fallen.”

“Where, what?”

“Back of the castle, sir.”

Harry drove as hard as he could, over the drawbridge, under the portcullis, through the courtyard and sped along the tradesman’s route which ended at the side of the castle.

He switched off the engine, jumped out, and started to run to the back. There was a figure struggling in the moat.

“It’s Lady Rose,” gasped Becket.

Harry stripped off his long overcoat, his jacket, hat and motoring goggles, tore off his shoes, and dived in.

When he surfaced it was to find that Rose had gone down again under the icy waters.

He dived and groped around until his hands grasped clothing. He pulled the body to the surface and found himself staring at the bloated features of an unrecognizable dead female.

There came a faint, “Help!” as Rose surfaced again. He abandoned the horror he had found, and swam to Rose and put his arms around her.

“Relax,” he ordered. “And let me tow you in.”

He swam with Rose to the bank and Becket pulled her clear. “Get Lady Rose back to the castle, and then come back here with some help. There’s a dead body down there.”

Rose was shivering and spluttering. Then she turned away and vomited. “That’ll get some of that filthy water out of you,” said Becket. He tenderly wrapped her in his master’s coat and assisted her to the car.

He drove quickly round to the front of the castle. The butler appeared on the doorstep.

“Get Lady Rose’s maid,” said Becket, “and send for the doctor.”

The butler went back into the hall and shouted orders. The marquess appeared. “What’s going on?”

“You must get the police immediately, my lord,” said Becket.

“Oh, Daisy, help your mistress to her room. She fell in the moat from the roof.”

“Why should I get the police?” demanded the marquess testily. “There is no need to get the police because one of my guests was playing on the roof and fell over.”

“My lord, Captain Cathcart dived in to rescue Lady Rose and found a dead body in the moat.”

“Where? What?”

“At the back of the castle.”

The marquess strode out of the castle followed by his butler, two footmen, and the hall-boy.

When he reached the back of the castle, it was to find more staff there, who had seen the drama from the windows, clustered around the captain.

Harry was kneeling by a body laid out on the grass at the edge of the moat. He looked up and saw the marquess. “You had better call the police,” said Harry.

“Who is she?” asked the marquess.

“I fear it is Colette, the missing lady’s maid.”

“Can’t this be kept quiet?”

“I am afraid not. I do not know what Lady Rose was doing on the roof, but it looks as if there might have been one attempted murder and one murder of this maid.”

Rose had told Daisy the whole story of how she came to be on the roof. Changed into a night-dress, she lay in bed surrounded by hot-water bottles.

“Shh, now,” said Daisy. “The doctor will be here soon.” “But there is something I want you to do for me, Daisy. It’s urgent. You remember how to use a telephone?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Try to get into Lord Hedley’s study and phone the
Daily Mail
and tell them about me and about the body in the moat.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. But why?”

“I don’t want this hushed up in any way. I don’t want Hedley to wriggle out of this one. And phone my parents. I want you to tell them I am all right. I don’t want them to read about it in the newspapers first.”

Daisy left and Rose leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. At least there would have to be a proper investigation now. She would show them the note ...

She opened her eyes and sat up. The note? Where had she left it? Then she remembered she had left it on her dressing-table. She got out of bed and went to the dressing-table but there was no sign of any note.

Rose got slowly back into bed, her teeth beginning to chatter with fright. The door to her bedroom opened and she let out a faint scream.

“It’s only me,” said Harry. “I came to see how you were.”

“Frightened.”

“What happened? What were you doing on the roof?”

So Rose told her story again, ending with, “And the note’s gone. I left it on the dressing-table.”

“I got Hedley to phone the police. The silly man thought it could be covered up. I don’t think his servants and guests are going to keep quiet about a dead body in the moat.”

“Maybe ... maybe she fell in.”

“She was probably pushed.”

“But why Colette and not Quinn?”

“I really don’t think Quinn knows the identity of Mary Gore-Desmond’s lover, but somehow Colette must have found out. Perhaps she tried to blackmail someone. Where’s Daisy?”

“I sent her to phone the
Daily Mail?

“Why?”

“Because I did not want this to be hushed up. Also, do you remember how the scandal of the bombs at Stacey Magna brought so many press and sightseers to the village? The villagers here could do with some money. I think they are starv-ing.”

“They are abysmally housed but they are not starving. Country people grow their own vegetables and most keep a pig and, if I am not mistaken, a lot of food from the castle kitchens will find its way down to the village. But there is no school and a lot of illness due to the insanitary conditions they live in.” He laughed. “I am sure the
Daily Mail
will point that out.”

“Daisy is also phoning my parents.”

“I should think the other ladies will be contacting their parents. Lord Hedley had better expect more guests.”

Daisy entered the room. “I did like you said, my lady. \bur ma and pa are coming as soon as possible. I told that butler to prepare a room for them.”

There was a knock at the door. Daisy opened it and the marquess and the doctor walked in. It showed that the marquess had finally realized the gravity of the situation that he should allow the despised Dr. Perriman back in the castle.

“A word with you, Cathcart,” he snapped. “We’ll leave the doctor to get on with it.”

Dr. Perriman was a small neat man with bright intelligent eyes. He listened carefully while Rose told him what had happened.

“I am glad, in a way,” he said. “It means the death of Miss Gore-Desmond might be investigated again. Now, let me examine you. Did you swallow a lot of water?”

“I did, but I think I got rid of most of it by being sick. Oh,
Captain Cathcart rescued me and I never even thanked him.”

“Later will do.”

He examined her, sounding her chest and feeling her pulse. Then he said, “I think you have come out of it remarkably well, Lady Rose. But I shall leave a sleeping draught with you because you have been through a great ordeal.”

Rose looked uneasily at the green glass bottle he placed on her bedside table. She had no intention of swallowing any and leaving herself vulnerable to a prowling murderer.

“I did not think arsenic was used much these days as a cosmetic,” she said.

“Perhaps not. But there is a great deal of arsenic around. Fly-papers contain arsenic. There was a case recently where a woman had soaked fly-papers to get the resultant crystals and killed her husband. Then a lot of old houses still have arsenic paste in the wallpaper, called Paris Green. It is also used as a treatment for syphilis—I do beg your pardon. I should not mention such a thing in front of ladies.”

When he had gone, Rose said, “I might sleep. Stay with me, Daisy. Oh, someone at the door.”

It was Margaret Bryce-Cuddlestone, followed by Frederica Sutherland and the American sisters.

“What’s been going on?” asked Margaret. “All this running to and fro and the constabulary are here again.”

Rose told her story again and then said, “They believe the body in the moat is that of Colette.”

Margaret swayed and the American sisters thrust her down into a chair and put smelling salts under her nose.

“I’m leaving today,” said Frederica.

“Won’t be possible,” said Harriet Peterson. “We’ve all to be interviewed by the police. I phoned my aunt in London and
she’s coming down here. You’d best phone your parents, Miss Sutherland.”

“They’re in Marienbad,” wailed Frederica.

“Then send them a wire. There’s been something odd about this horrible place from the beginning. No proper protocol observed. All of us changed around at meals. Bad form. Auntie’s from Virginia. She won’t stand for any of that nonsense.”

Despite her shock and distress, Rose found herself mildly amused that an aunt from the home of democracy should be such a stickler for protocol.

With her usual forthrightness, Deborah said, “There’s a murderer amongst us. Which one of us do you think it is?”

Daisy stepped forward. “Ladies, you must remember Lady Rose has had a frightening experience. I think she should rest now.”

Murmuring apologies, they headed for the door. But Margaret had the last word. “If you had left well alone, none of this would have ever happened.”

“What a bitch!” exclaimed Daisy when the door had closed behind them.

“Daisy!”

“Well, what a thing to say. My money’s on her. Just think! If you had hit the castle walls on your road down, you’d be as dead as Colette.”

“I would rather not think about that. Run along and see what else you can find out.”

“I’m not leaving you! You said not to.”

“Now that nothing can be hushed up, I am sure no one will dare to try anything. Oh, the door again. Get rid of whoever it is.”

Daisy opened the door. “It’s Lady Hedley.”

“Let her come in,” said Rose wearily.

The little marchioness came up to the bed and peered anxiously at Rose. “How are you, my dear?”

“I think I am going to be all right.”

“Such a silly thing to do! Playing about the roof of the castle.”

“I was not playing. I was lured up there by some murderer.”

The marchioness shook her head. “The trouble with you young gels is that you will read cheap romances.”

“But it happened!”

“Now, you don’t really know what you are saying. There is no reason for you to burden the police with silly stories. That awful Kerridge person is on his way.”

“I will tell him exactly what happened,” said Rose firmly.

“This house party was a mistake,” said Lady Hedley, half to herself. “But he thought it would be amusing.”

“Lady Hedley,” ventured Rose, “could you not possibly prevail on your husband to do something for his villagers? Their living conditions are dreadful.”

The marchioness looked at Rose as if she had just dropped in from another planet. “God puts us in our appointed stations, my dear. God put the villagers there. I heard you were intelligent. You appear very silly.”

And with that parting remark, Lady Hedley left the room.

Rose’s next visitors were Maisie Chatterton and Lady Sarah Trenton. Lady Sarah said she was very sensitive and had felt a
frisson
about the time that Rose was falling off the roof.