The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (6 page)

Chapter Six

Rex Ransom's brow puckered as he made his way to his bedroom to dress for dinner. He was worried. Had that telegram to Laura Lorenzo just been a hoax? Or was Haggermeir, in spite of his denial, responsible for it? Had he wanted to invite her, but not liked to ask the Burford's permission - or, more likely, not wanted him, Rex, to know he was after her for
The King's Man
? Either way, it seemed on the cards that she would sign. And Rex didn't like the idea at all.

For years his name had been the only one to appear above the title of his pictures. Laura Lorenzo, however, would certainly demand at least an equal billing - perhaps even top billing. Moreover, her first Hollywood picture would undoubtedly be something of an event. The top critics would attend press screenings in force. Haggermeir might even give it the full publicity treatment of a gala premier. Rex could see himself being reduced to the level of a supporting player.

His lips set tightly. He would not stand for it. He'd fight for his rights. And he had one trump card: Cyrus needed
his
cooperation to get this picture off the ground. It was
him
the Earl was a fan of. It was
his
charm that was going to win over the Countess.

As Rex reached his room on the corner of the main block and the west wing, he looked right and saw Haggermeir - camera round his neck, a tape measure and writing pad in his hands - leave an empty room at the end of the corridor. Rex was tempted to go and tackle him immediately. But then Haggermeir disappeared up the stairs to the next floor, and Rex opened the door of his room.

As he did so, he was hit by a blast of cold air. He switched on the light - and stopped.

Where the window had been was a gaping black hole. And the floor was littered with broken glass.

Rex stood hesitating, wondering what Emily Post would say was the correct thing to do under the circumstances. He shivered. Well, he couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. He'd freeze to death in here.

He went in search of his host.

* * *

Lord Burford stared round Rex's bedroom. He scratched his head. 'How very peculiar. I meantersay, if one of the maids had got careless and backed a broom through the window, you'd hardly expect her to do quite such a wholesale job. Likewise if small boys are trespassin' and started throwing stones.'

Rex said tentatively, 'I have heard of big birds - geese and suchlike — smashing into windows in the dark.'

The Earl looked impressed. 'That's a thought. You may - ah!' He bent down and picked something off the rug. It was a grey feather, two-inches long. 'Looks as if you may have hit the nail on the head, old man. Wonder if the creature killed itself. I'll send a servant to look outside in a moment. But what are we going to do with you? That's the problem. Of course!' He snapped his fingers. 'The Royal Suite.'

'Oh, I couldn't possibly—'

'Nonsense, Rex. We don't keep it exclusively for royalty. Besides, you've been a prince and a king in your time, so you ought to feel quite at home.'

'I've also been a pirate and a highwayman. All the same, I'm surely honoured.'

'Good. I'll arrange with Merryweather to have it made ready.'

Lord Burford smiled.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a great success. The food was a highly traditional English menu, most of it the actual produce of the estate; mushroom soup, grilled trout, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, apple tart and cream and Cheddar cheese, with an excellent selection of wines.

But it was as a social gathering that the occasion turned out far better than could have been anticipated. This was due largely to the presence of Laura. She looked exquisite in an extra- tight sheath gown of black velvet, split over emerald satin; and although she didn't herself speak much, she seemed to act as a sort of catalyst on some of the others.

Lady Burford, for example had quite forgiven Laura's earlier behaviour on learning of the misconception she had been under; and was, in fact, secretly delighted to have a Serious Dramatic Actress added to the party. She had learnt that the highly respectable and respected magazine
The Londoner
had recently devoted a long and fulsome article to Laura, who was clearly a fit person to be entertained at a house where Sarah Bernhardt had once stayed — and who would provide a most useful camouflage for the other film people; they could now be represented to friends as having been merely necessary appendages to Signorina Lorenzo. Consequently, the Countess was far happier with the house party than she had been.

Laura also brought out the best in Rex. Determined not to be outshone by her, he put all he had into making an impact, and compliments, jokes and anecdotes of the stars flowed from his lips throughout the meal.

The third person affected by Laura's presence was Hugh. It was obvious to everybody that he'd been deeply smitten by her, and to his delight, found himself sitting next to her. He talked animatedly to her all through dinner, mostly in Italian.

Gerry was rather irritated by his attentiveness, but she was honest enough to realise that she could have no real cause for complaint. Anything was better than the way he'd been behaving since his arrival.

Having run out of ideas for new characterizations, Gerry had decided just to be herself this evening. However, as this was a personality Gilbert had not previously seen, it was to him as much a new side of her as the others had been. Sitting opposite her, he stared at her with a fearful fascination.

It was during dessert, when Rex had just completed an amusing story concerning a backstage incident at the previous year's Oscar ceremony, that Lord Burford addressed the company at large.

'By the way, talking of prizegivings reminds me: wonderin' if you'd all care for a little jaunt tomorrow evening.'

'I'm game for anything,' Rex said. 'What do you have in mind?'

'Well, it may be a bit of a bore for you, Rex, but ever since the village learnt you were coming they've been agog, wonderin' if they were going to get a chance to see you.'

Rex grinned, 'I'm happy to display the old visage, sign a few autographs.'

'Actually, there's a little more to it than that. You see, each year about this time they hold a talent contest. Everybody turns out, and I usually act as one of the judges and present the prizes. Well, this year's contest is tomorrow night - seven o'clock - and I was wondering if you'd hand out the awards.'

'I don't want to steal your job.'

'I've done it dozens of times. No it'll be a nice break for me, and a real thrill for the village.'

'Then I'll be glad to.'

'Oh, fine. As a matter of fact, the committee put the contest back a week when it first got round you were coming, in the hope you'd agree, and I said I'd do my best. Now, how about you, Haggermeir? Care to be one of the judges?'

'Me? Oh, I don't think so, thanks—'

Rex interrupted. 'Now, come on, Cyrus, you might discover a new Shirley Temple.'

'I'm afraid that's highly unlikely,' the Earl said. 'Most of 'em are pretty ghastly, actually, though there are usually two or three who aren't too bad.

'Well, I guess they couldn't be much more lousy than some of the screen tests I see every week. OK then.'

'Splendid. I'll telephone the chappie who's organising it in the morning and tell him to expect a couple of VIP guests.'

Gerry said, 'Daddy, don't forget we have more than just two VIP guests.' She inclined her head slightly towards Laura.

However, as she did so, Arlington Gilbert said, 'Thank you, Lady Geraldine, but I can think of no more revolting way to pass an evening than witnessing the cavorting and caterwauling of bucolic
brats
!

Gerry bridled. 'Personally, I wouldn't miss it for the world. It can be the most spiffing fun. Paul, you'll come?'

'Certainly. Try anything once.'

'Hugh?'

'Thanks, but I'd rather not.'

Lord Burford, who'd got the gist of his daughter's hint, turned to Laura. 'Forgive me, signorina, for not including you. 'Fraid it just didn't occur to me that you . . .'

Rex said lightly, 'Oh, I can't imagine that such a distinguished and intellectual actress would find such an event at all amusing.'

Laura smiled at him sweetly. 'You are quite wrong, Mr Ransom.' She looked at the Earl. 'I should enjoy much watching the dear leetle bambini performing, and helping you judge them.'

Avoiding the eye of Rex, who was looking very slightly disgruntled at this, Lord Burford said, 'Well, we're going to have quite a party. Anybody else who'd like to join us, of course, will be more than welcome.'

Hugh said, 'Thank you, Lord Burford. I think I'll change my mind and come along.'

Now it was Paul's turn to look displeased. He said, 'Come with me in my car, Gerry?'

'Yes, of course.'

She glanced a little anxiously at Hugh. But he was looking at Laura.

* * *

When coffee was being served in the drawing room after dinner, Rex suddenly said, 'Do you know, George, what I've been looking forward to ever since I knew I was coming here: learning something of the history of Alderley and of your ancestors. There must be quite a few interesting stories in nearly three hundred years.'

'Oo, don't know about that. Pretty dull lot, actually. Most of 'em just hung around here, looking after the estate and collectin' things.'

'Surely, they can't
all
have been dull?'

'Well, there was the fifth Earl. He was very mechanical. Built a flying machine. Powered by gunpowder. Tried to take off from the roof of the east wing. People still fish bits of the machine out of the lake from time to time. And the Earl, for all I know. Then there's the business of the seventh Earl and the Westshire Declaration of Independence. Got the idea from the American colonists. Proclaimed the county an independent republic, with himself as president. Couldn't get anyone to take him seriously. So he went to London, bought up several tons of tea and dumped it in the East India dock. But nobody took any notice. He couldn't understand it. Said it had worked for the colonists. His wife came and took him home then.'

Cecily said, 'George, wasn't there a ghost at one time?'

'Oh, you mean Lady Elfreda.'

'That sounds interesting,' said Paul.

'Not especially. Daughter of the eighth Earl. Shut herself up in her room for the unrequited love of a dancin' master and swore never to eat again.'

'What happened?' Cecily asked. 'Did she die?'

'Oh, yes.'

'She starved herself to death for love?'

'Just the opposite. Kept it up for three days, then crept down in the night and stuffed herself with a rather doubtful game pie they'd been going to throw away. Died of food poisonin'. We still hear her voice sometimes. Calling for castor oil.'

'Wasn't your grandfather something of a character, sir?' Paul asked.

'Oh, old Aylwin. Well, I agree, you couldn't call him dull.'

'Tell us about him,' said Haggermeir.

'He wasn't exactly an admirable character.'

'So much the better,' said Rex.

The Earl collected his thoughts. 'Aylwin was a holy terror from the start. Always in scrapes — playing practical jokes, taking up dares. Got through dozens of nursemaids. No viciousness in him, mind. Just high-spirited, with a keen - if not very subtle - sense of humour. And apparently quite fearless. When he was eleven they sent him to Eton. There he was constantly in trouble for fighting, being out after hours, and was eventually expelled after being found playing cards for money in a public house. He came home for a few years, made life miserable for a succession of tutors, and was generally thoroughly pestilential throughout the neighbourhood. By the time he was eighteen he already had a county-wide reputation for drinking, gaming, wenching, fighting, and all kinds of wild stunts.

'Then, for the first time, he fell in love. The girl was a Lady Mary Carruthers, the daughter of a large landowner, with an estate ten miles away. She was as different from Aylwin as chalk from cheese - small, pretty, demure, shy - but he proposed after knowing her a week. And she accepted. However, her parents wouldn't hear of it. For one thing she was only sixteen, and although it would have been a very advantageous match for her, his reputation was just too bad for them.

'Aylwin, though, wasn't going to let that stand in his way. He asked Mary to run away with him. She agreed, and accompanied by Aylwin's manservant - a fellow called John — they eloped. They were making for Gretna Green in Scotland, to be married over the anvil as the saying went. 'Course, it wasn't long before Mary's parents found out what had happened, and her father and Aylwin's set off in pursuit - though not, I imagine, with much hope of catching them in time.

'But, by sheer luck, they did run them to earth, at an inn just short of the Scottish border. The youngsters gave way to the inevitable then. Explained that they'd been held up when the carriage had gone into a ditch.

'Aylwin and Mary were taken home in disgrace. But Mary's parents were so relieved to find that Aylwin had behaved as a perfect gentleman throughout, and her virtue was unblemished, that they didn't take the matter any further and a scandal was avoided.

'But Aylwin's father had by then taken just about all he could take of his son. He gave Aylwin five thousand guineas and told him to clear off. He never wanted to see him again.

'Aylwin didn't argue. He took the money and left, again with the faithful John in tow. He spent the next couple of years in London and Paris, until eventually he had just a few pounds left. With most of this he bought two tickets to America. He and John set sail in August, 1842.

'Now, he succeeded in winning about twenty pounds at cards on the voyage. It was the only money-making skill he had, and it seemed to him that his best course was to try and earn a living at it. After a few weeks in New York, though, he decided that he'd have a better chance of doing this out West.

Aylwin took to the West like a duck to water. He loved the free and easy atmosphere, the opportunities for adventure and excitement. He was tough, knew how to use his fists, and was a first-rate horseman. As a result, he seems to have got on famously, and for the next six or seven years he roamed far and wide. Exactly how he kept himself all that time I don't know. He certainly made a living as a professional gambler for a spell; but he also went fur trapping, acted with a touring theatrical company, and had a few bouts as a professional prizefighter. He fought Indians, shot a man in a gunfight at Dodge City, and became a close friend of Kit Carson.