The Incident at Fives Castle (An Angela Marchmont Mystery #5) (3 page)

It was getting late and the Countess was beginning to make noises about dressing for dinner when Freddy Pilkington-Soames swung into the room as though he owned the place. He made a bee-line for Lady Strathmerrick, bowed slightly and gave her his most winning smile.

‘Hallo, Lady S,’ he said. ‘It’s awfully good of you to invite me. I believe we’ve met once before—it was a year or two ago, at the Derbyshires’ house, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh—ah,’ said Lady Strathmerrick, caught off guard by his familiar courtesy. ‘Yes, I believe I remember it. How delightful to see you again.’

Freddy then proceeded to ruin the good impression he had just made by turning to Priss and saying, ‘Hallo, Priss. You’re looking as ravishing as ever—far too good for that ass Claude. When you’ve divorced him you can marry me. How about it?’ He then turned and started theatrically as he pretended to see Claude Burford for the first time. ‘Oh, sorry old chap—I didn’t see you there.’

‘I resent that,’ said Claude, who had no sense of humour. ‘Priss is not going to divorce me. It’s simply absurd of you to suggest such a thing. If you were any sort of gentleman you’d apologize to her now.’

But Priss had perked up at Freddy’s entrance and merely said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Claude. Freddy’s baiting you, as usual. And you fall for it every time.’

Freddy smirked.

‘I’m sorry, old bean,’ he said. ‘Priss is right—I was just teasing. I instruct myself continually to be a model of decorum but somehow I can’t stop myself from doing it when the opportunity presents itself. Lady Priscilla,’ he said with a formal bow to Priss, ‘please accept my humble apologies. I won’t do it again. Now I dare say you’d like to have me soundly thrashed.’

‘Idiot,’ said Priss, who was eyeing him with some interest. Angela noticed that Selma Nash was also giving the young man covert glances from under her lashes. She sensed trouble—never too far away when Freddy was about—and resolved to keep well out of it.

‘Where are Gus and Bobby?’ said Lady Strathmerrick when Freddy had greeted everybody and given Angela a particularly significant leer. ‘Clemmie, dear, would you mind going to fetch them? They were supposed to be here by now.’

Clemmie sighed and went out.

Freddy said, ‘I say, I hope you’ve got plenty to eat and drink here. The snow was coming down so thick and fast that I had to abandon my car halfway up the drive when it got stuck in a dip. I don’t think anybody else will manage to get here tonight—or tomorrow either, if it keeps coming down like this.’

‘Do you mean we’re trapped here?’ said Eleanor Buchanan, and there was a strange note in her voice that might have been fear or something else entirely.

Gertie looked up in surprise at her tone.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We’ve been snowed in before, and it’s rather good fun. Why, we were stuck here for two weeks once—do you remember, Priss? We did run rather low on food then. I half-thought we should have to start eating each other.’

‘I wouldn’t bother eating you,’ said Freddy. ‘You’ve no meat on you at all. Hardly worth it. Priss, on the other hand, looks far more appetizing. Quite deliciously succulent, in fact.’

Fortunately, Lady Strathmerrick was talking to Claude and neither of them heard. Priss heard perfectly but affected not to. Sandy Buchanan looked amused but his wife did not.

‘I do hope it stops snowing soon,’ she said. ‘I should hate to think we couldn’t get away.’

‘My dear girl,’ said her husband. ‘Why, we’ve only just arrived and the fun has yet to begin. There are plenty of ladies here for you to talk to while we men get on with business, and there’s plenty for you to do. To listen to you anyone would think you expected to be dreadfully bored by the whole thing, if you’re that desperate to get away.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that at all,’ she said, flushing. ‘I’m terribly sorry if that’s how it sounded. I just meant—well, you have to get back to London in a day or two, don’t you? You have lots of important meetings.’

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ said Buchanan soothingly. ‘Now, I think we had all better go and get dressed for dinner, or we shall be late.’

Angela completed her toilette with Marthe’s expert assistance, took one last critical glance at herself in the glass and left her room. She was rather pleased with her new evening-gown, which was of dark-blue silk and hugged her figure in all the right places, while cunningly-placed beading and embroidery contrived to disguise any minor imperfections in her form. She enjoyed listening to it rustle as she drifted along the passage to the head of the stairs, where she stopped for a second to make a slight adjustment to one of her gloves.

‘Hallo, Angela,’ said a voice, and she looked up to see Aubrey Nash standing at her shoulder. He offered her his arm. ‘It always takes Selma an age to decide what to wear,’ he said by way of explanation, ‘so I never wait.’

His glance showed that she had made the right choice of dress. Angela smiled and took his arm, and they walked down the stairs together and into the drawing-room. They were not quite the first ones there, for two of the guests had arrived before them. Aubrey introduced her to his secretary, Gabe Bradley, a pleasant-faced young man who had spent the afternoon discussing business with the Earl. Then the other man came forward and a look of surprise crossed Angela’s face as she recognized him.

‘Hallo, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Henry Jameson.

‘Why, Mr. Jameson!’ she exclaimed, her face breaking into a smile. ‘I had no idea you were going to be here.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t say the same,’ said Mr. Jameson. ‘I knew you were coming. You are looking very well, Mrs. Marchmont. How long has it been? Ten years, perhaps?’

‘Oh, at least,’ replied Angela. ‘Now, that makes me feel dreadfully old.’

‘You don’t look a day older than you did then,’ he said gallantly. ‘I understand you have been showing the chaps at Scotland Yard how their job ought to be done.’

‘Hardly,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I should say it’s more the case that I have been getting in the way. I seem to have the most unfortunate knack for destroying evidence without meaning to.’

‘You are too modest,’ said Jameson. ‘I know my brother admires your detective abilities greatly.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Angela uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps in another life I should have liked to have been a detective, had I been a man. As it is I am forced to satisfy myself by meddling in things that don’t concern me.’

They were soon joined by the other guests and members of the family, and the conversation became more general. Finally, Angela was introduced to the Earl of Strathmerrick, very formal in his dinner-suit, who shook her hand and listened to her name as though he had never heard it before. His manner was distant and he glanced over her as though she were not important—or was it perhaps her imagination? Angela suddenly wondered why she was so conscious of being judged, and decided to stop thinking about it.

At dinner, Angela was seated between Aubrey Nash and Henry Jameson. The Ambassador was talking to Lord Strathmerrick, so Angela and Henry talked merrily, in the way of old friends who have not seen each other for many years. Henry was married now, she learned, and had a growing brood of children. The little ones were all very fond of their Uncle Alec, the inspector, who was rather wedded to his job at Scotland Yard and showed no signs of settling down. Angela agreed that it was difficult to find time for that kind of thing when one was busy solving crimes.

Henry then turned to talk to Clemmie, and Angela had a few moments to observe what was happening around the table. Gertie was sitting next to the Foreign Secretary and giggling at his amusing story of a recent encounter with an important French politician. Lady Strathmerrick, meanwhile, was doing her best to cheer up Mrs. Buchanan, who was picking miserably at her food. Freddy had somehow wangled himself a seat next to Priss, and she was looking rather like the cat that had got the cream. As the two of them flirted discreetly, Angela glanced at Claude Burford, who was also sitting next to Priss, and saw that he was staring across at the Foreign Secretary and completely ignoring Miss Foster, who was sitting on his other side. Sandy Buchanan was just finishing his anecdote, and as he concluded, Claude burst out laughing and said, ‘Oh, I say, that’s very good, sir.’

Freddy said, ‘Pass the salt, Claude, old thing. Priss wants it, but you’re ignoring her.’

‘Am I?’ said Claude. He passed the salt to Priss and then went back to hanging on the Foreign Secretary’s every word. Eventually, he seemed to remember that he ought to be paying attention to his fiancée, and turned towards her. This gave Selma Nash the opportunity to engage Freddy in conversation.

‘Have you ever seen snow like this?’ said someone at last.

Gus and Bobby, the Strathmerricks’ two youngest children, who had until then been concentrating on their food in respectful silence, perked up immediately at the mention of snow.

‘I dare say you’d like to go out and build a snowman tomorrow,’ said Sandy Buchanan to the boys, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ said Gus immediately.

Bobby, his younger brother, nodded.

‘You can help us if you like,’ he said to Gabe Bradley, who was sitting opposite him.

‘Don’t bother Mr. Bradley with your nonsense, Bobby,’ said Claude. ‘He has important work to do.’

But Gabe laughed.

‘Why, I should love to,’ he said. ‘That is, if I can. I don’t get much of a chance to play these days, I’m afraid, and I may be wanted tomorrow. But if I get a moment, why, nothing will keep me away—you’ll see!’

‘Let’s all go out,’ said Gertie.

‘We shall see, dear,’ said the Countess.

Shortly afterwards the ladies retired to the drawing-room, and Freddy tactfully followed suit, suspecting that the men had business to discuss that could not be disclosed before him. He sat down by Priss, while Gertie and her two brothers began a noisy game of beggar-my-neighbour and Clemmie took up a book and buried herself in it. Selma Nash and Eleanor Buchanan struck up a conversation about the ballet, at which the latter seemed to forget her customary wariness and became almost animated, while Lady Strathmerrick bickered gently with Miss Foster.

Angela wandered over to the window and stood by it for a while, gazing out onto the terrace. The light from the drawing-room made it difficult to see, so she drew the curtain further across the window recess to shut out the glare. The snow was still falling thickly and had begun to drift against statues, urns and ornamental walls. What looked like a small fountain was almost entirely covered and had become an amorphous mass of curves, with the occasional protruding black shape in places where the snow had not settled. As Angela stared out, she thought idly of the past few hours. It was an interesting gathering, with an intriguing mixture of people, and she had begun to enjoy herself despite her previous reservations. Most importantly, she felt that she had acquitted herself well with the Countess, who had been rather stiff at first but was now beginning to unbend.

‘There you are,’ said Freddy, who had come to join her behind the curtain. ‘How are you getting on? Not too bored, I hope.’

‘Not at all,’ said Angela. ‘Everyone seems very pleasant.’

‘Yes, there are lots of good-looking men for you to exercise your charms on,’ he said. ‘And women, of course,’ he said as she threw him a glance. ‘I don’t mean to say I consider you to be some sort of man-eater.’

‘I should think not,’ said Angela in some surprise at the idea.

Freddy went on, unabashed, ‘You were getting on rather well with that American fellow at dinner.’

‘Of course I was,’ said Angela. ‘I told you, I’ve known him for years.
And
his wife,’ she said with some emphasis.

‘I wonder what happened to the other chap who was supposed to be coming,’ said Freddy. ‘What is he? A Swedish professor, wasn’t it?’

‘Danish, I believe,’ said Angela. ‘I doubt he’ll make it here now, in this weather.’

‘I wonder why nobody mentioned him.’

Angela glanced at him sideways.

‘By the way, Freddy, I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘I think something secret is going on at Fives.’

Freddy was all attention.

‘Oh?’ he said. ‘Why is that?’

‘Because Henry Jameson is here.’

‘The civil servant? Is that his name? Any relation to our friend the inspector?’

‘They’re brothers,’ said Angela.

‘Good Lord, I had no idea,’ said Freddy. ‘Is he important?’

‘He is, rather. He’s very high up in the Intelligence service.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Freddy, picturing the owlish Henry Jameson to himself and shaking his head in perplexity. ‘How do you know?’

‘As a matter of fact, I worked for him during the war,’ replied Angela.

‘You? I thought you were in America then, running through rich husbands and living a life of idleness and ease.’

‘I don’t know where you get your ideas from,’ said Angela. ‘My home
was
in America, but I didn’t spend the whole war there. And I have not “run through” any husbands at all,’ she added with dignity.

‘So you worked for Intelligence?’ said Freddy. ‘Typing up secret memorandums and what-not in an office, eh?’

‘Something of the sort,’ said Angela dryly. ‘Anyway, from what I remember, Henry Jameson was not the type of man to travel about the country unless the country required it of him. If he’s here at a house party in Scotland with the Foreign Secretary and the American Ambassador, then you can be sure something is going on.’

‘I see,’ said Freddy. ‘I wonder what it is, then. I mean to say, it requires no great stretch of the imagination to see that Nash and Buchanan might occasionally find themselves at the same do, but I can’t see why on earth this Intelligence chap should be here at the same time. And then there’s the Danish professor. What was his name?’

‘I don’t remember,’ said Angela.

‘Perhaps he has something to do with it.’

‘Well, they’re not likely to tell us anything, are they?’ said Angela. ‘Especially not when the
Clarion’s
most inquisitive reporter is sneaking around the castle with his notebook.’

‘I am briefly off duty, having found other means of entertaining myself,’ said Freddy.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Angela. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed you foisting yourself onto Priss.’

‘I haven’t foisted anything onto anyone,’ said Freddy. ‘No foisting has taken place. I never foist. Both parties are entirely and wholly willing. And that ass Burford needs taking down a peg. I don’t know what she sees in him.’

‘Oh,
I
see,’ said Angela. ‘You’re doing it to annoy him. Why?’

‘I’m not
just
doing it to annoy him, but I do have a score to settle with him. We were at school together, you know, although he was a few years older than I. He was just the same then: perpetually sucking up to the bigger boys in order to gain advantage. And he was a terrible bully to the smaller boys. I fagged for him and he used to kick me mercilessly. I don’t suppose he even remembers it.’

‘Poor you,’ said Angela sympathetically, and then gave him an odd look. ‘Somehow I can’t imagine you suffering that kind of thing for long,’ she said. ‘I should have expected you to do something about it.’

‘Oh, I did,’ he assured her. ‘I set fire to his bed one night while he was in it. I’d be obliged if you wouldn’t mention that, though, as they never found out who did it, but the police got involved and things were rather unpleasant at school for a while.’

Several remarks came into Angela’s mind at once, but she contented herself with merely saying, ‘But that means you’ve already settled the score, doesn’t it?’

‘Not really,’ said Freddy. ‘Some rotter woke him up just in time and he got out completely unhurt. I shall always remember it, though. I was a poor, motherless child and nobody came to my rescue.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Angela. ‘Your mother is alive and well and very fond of you.’

‘Nevertheless, we Pilkington-Soameses have long memories,’ he said darkly. ‘We are like elephants—we never forget.’

‘So, let me see,’ said Angela. ‘In order to get revenge for something that happened many years ago when you were both children, you are now bothering the fiancée of a respectable junior Member of Parliament.’

‘Bothering? Nonsense,’ said Freddy. ‘She’s hardly beating me off. Why, anybody can see the poor girl is bored to tears by him. I shall let a little light into her jaded life and bring a smile to her face once again, if only for a day or two.’

‘Well, I wash my hands of the whole thing,’ said Angela. ‘Don’t associate me with your schemes. I am already doing rather well in convincing Lady Strathmerrick that I am not some sort of adventuress—which I believe was her earlier conviction. I have brought my most respectable frocks and am determined to behave as demurely as a nun.’

‘Yes, you look very nice,’ said Freddy approvingly. ‘I should think you’ll pass all right. But look, your hair has got caught in your earring. Let me get it out for you.’

He moved nearer, and Angela inclined her head towards him as he attempted gently to extricate the offending curl from the little diamond drop. They were standing in this attitude of concentration, his face close to hers, when Lady Strathmerrick, who wished to look out of the window, suddenly joined them behind the curtain.