The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) (21 page)

“It looks pretty. Are you going to wear it to dinner?”

“No.” I looked away, horrified. “They always slip out of my hair.”

“This dress is the ticket.” Pulling out the apricot cashmere and lace, Ellen spread it over her bed. “And I’ve diamond stud earrings and a bracelet to match. Quick. Do try it on so we can attend to that mop of your hair.”

“It is a mop,” I lamented, slipping on the dress, delighted that it fit me. Moving to the mirror, I liked how the material accentuated the small curves I possessed and enhanced my bosom. I’d never have a
large
bosom like Lady Lara and this I must accept. However, I reflected, she couldn’t run as well as I, could she?

“My cream shoes will go nicely with that, if they fit.”

Alas, they did not fit. “Never mind, black will do. I’ll wear a black-and-silver headband too.”

Like two schoolgirls, we played dress-up and Charlotte and Alicia followed. As I predicted, she looked fabulous in my emerald-green dress. We also persuaded her to leave her spectacles behind. “The major might bring a friend,” I teased and she turned away, downcast.

“You have heard Dean is engaged?” Ellen broached the subject.

“Yes,” she replied, keeping her gaze lowered.

“Come, now,” Ellen prodded, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I wasn’t interested in him
that
way,” came the sharp retort and Ellen and I shared a glance.

“I told you,” she whispered later, “it’s Alicia Prickly.”

*   *   *

Abandoning the mirror, I hurried downstairs, careful to avoid the servants. I didn’t want any of them reporting to Mother that Miss Daphne had gone down early.

Seeing a hat and coat in the hall, I gathered Mr. Grimshaw had arrived. I heard his low American drawl emanate from my father’s study.

“… she’s up and steaming ahead. With any luck, we’ll control the market again.”

“With cheap German imports. Salinghurst won’t have a chance.”

“That’s what Uncle Ted had in mind when he bought into Salinghurst. A foot in the door. They can’t budge without his say-so.”

“He was a clever man,” my father said. “I’ve no head for such things.”

“You could invest with us, Sir Gerald. My cousin will upbraid me for propositioning you on a dinner date, but I’m what they call the black sheep of the family.”

“So I’ve heard…”

“I can promise you full returns. Let’s say an initial investment, five thousand pounds?”

I nearly choked. Five thousand pounds!

“Daphne du Maurier! Get away from that door at once!”

Caught by none other than my mother sailing down the stairs, I crept away like a naughty child, hoping my father or Jack Grimshaw hadn’t heard her. How embarrassing if they had. I mistrusted Jack Grimshaw enough without him having a handle over me.

The door opened and Jack stood there, smirking, his hands in his pockets. “Miss Daphne. What a pleasure.”

So he knew I’d been listening. “How was your trip to Germany, Mr. Grimshaw?”

“Oh, no. A short trip and we’re back to
formalities,
are we? I seem to remember you promising to come with me to a play. Are you still keen? Shall we say tomorrow evening?”

I swallowed, watching the maid answer the bell at the door. Heart pounding, I sensed him before he entered. Major Browning.

“Daphne?” asked Jack Grimshaw.

My face had a habit of betraying itself. “Oh.” I smiled, my gaze anxious to meet the caller as the door opened.

The major’s dark eyes sought mine. Neglecting to answer Mr. Grimshaw, I went straight to him, wishing him to sweep me up in his arms.

Instead, since eyes were upon us, he swept my hand to his lips. “How fare thee shoulder?”

I could have melted under the tender regard of his face. “I-I can’t feel it at the moment,” I stammered. “Today’s the first day without the sling.”

“You look beautiful.” He stood back to appraise me before turning to greet my parents and Mr. Grimshaw.

Covering for my faux pas, the major engaged in a discussion of Germany. Following my mother to the drawing room, I strained my ears to hear what was being said. Exchanges, pleasantries, neutral observations; however, I detected a caution between Jack Grimshaw and my major.

Within a short sequence, the remainder of my parents’ guests arrived and we journeyed into the dinner party fray. I longed to have a private talk with the major but my mother had strategically placed him down the other end of the table with two of his late-arrival colleagues from Scotland Yard.

“I hear the stairs are slippery at Claridge’s.” My father couldn’t help himself. “What are they saying? Accident or murder?”

“We don’t know yet,” Inspector Pailing answered. “But we’re appealing to the public for information. The deceased received a visitor in her chambers just prior to the time of her death. We wish to speak with this visitor.”

“Oh?” My mother shared a concerned glance with Ellen. “Do you know anything about the visitor?”

“Only that she’s a woman, Mrs. du Maurier.”

“A woman? How do you know?”

“A maid overheard voices in the room.”

“Perhaps it was fancy? A busy hotel…”

“No, Mrs. du Maurier. The maid is very certain, but she’s frightened.”

“Frightened? Why, pray?”

“Because two young women came to see her giving false names. They were asking about the murder.”

My mother put her spoon down and I sank farther into my seat. Down the far end of the table, I felt the major censuring me with those too-shrewd eyes.

“Inspector Pailing believes the young women may have murdered the woman and seek to silence the maid,” Major Browning informed, keeping a steady gaze on me.

I sank even lower, blaming the wine for my face turning a shade too pink.

“Does anyone know what the two young women look like?” Ellen asked.

“The description is well-bred and between twenty to thirty. May I ask where you were, Mrs. Grimshaw, between three and four on the twenty-second?”

Ellen’s brow furrowed but her eyes never wavered. “I was here with Charlotte.”

“You never left the house?”

“No, Inspector. We’d just come to town. I was still unpacking.”

“No murderers here, Inspector,” my father joked. “Isn’t it more likely the silly woman just tripped? If she was in a temper and missed her step?”

“She was enraged about something,” the inspector said. “But I don’t think we’ll ever find out about what.” Wiping his face with his napkin, the inspector bowed his head. “Forgive me, Mrs. du Maurier. This is a social call. Not a business one.”

Normal conversation ensued, helped by the main course and my father’s excellent choice in wine.

“What do you think happened?” I asked Jack Grimshaw across the table. He’d spent the first two courses completely engaged with the pretty daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Harrod. No doubt he’d heard she had an ample dowry.

“To Aunty Cynthia?” He raised his glass in tribute. “I believe she met with an unfortunate accident.”

“Does Rosalie think the same?”

He paused, his thick lips curling in consideration. “I cannot speak for my cousin. She is still in shock.”

“We called on her today.” Megan joined our tête-à-tête. “It’s true she’s overwrought.” Lowering her voice to a whisper so Ellen couldn’t hear, she added, “She says somebody got rid of her mother because of the court case but I don’t think that’s true. From what Dean says, they didn’t have a chance, anyway. Phew! How scary was that before with that inspector! I didn’t tell Dean. He doesn’t know.”

“Hmm.” I nodded to circumvent Jack Grimshaw’s interest in our whispers. “Will Rosalie go home to America now?”

“Not until after the hearing,” Jack answered, reserving a smug salute to Ellen.

Before Ellen felt the full thrust of his comment, I steered the conversation to safe grounds, leaving Jack Grimshaw to Angela, Jeanne, and the pretty Harrod girl.

“We haven’t really had a good chat yet, have we?” He approached me after supper, lighting a cigarette. “You support murderers.”

Searching for the major, I found him imprisoned between my father and Mr. Harrod. He was only a few feet away yet at this moment it felt like miles. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Grimshaw. Is it a private joke at my expense?”

“Oh, it’s no joke. There’s two dead bodies … and one murderer, I say.” His gaze swept across the room to Ellen. “Who do you think benefits from both deaths? Your friend Ellen Hamilton. Oh, I’ve looked into the Hamiltons. Illustrious family but with no money for their precious Thornleigh.”

“Are you suggesting Ellen murders to fund Thornleigh?”

To me, my voice sounded sharp, and Jack chuckled, perhaps to disguise it from others.

“I’m not suggesting. I know something’s amiss here and something’s at play.”

“How was Germany?” I attempted to change the subject.

“Fruitful … even with hounds around.”

I followed his glance to Major Browning. “The police are there for protection and to prevent crime, are they not?”

“Your police are too nosy. They should concern themselves with catching murderers.”

“Fraud and embezzlement are also crimes,” I reminded him, gaily smiling to whoever looked our way. “They can lead a person … to murder.”

His eyes danced. “You are a bold piece, aren’t you? Do you know what sometimes happens to bold pieces?”

“I’ve no idea.” I smiled back.

“They pay a price for their interference … and next time it may not be a shoulder wound.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“He
actually
said that?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. I can’t believe it. He tried to kill me. Or he tried to kill Ellen and instead nearly killed me—”

“Calm down … calm down.”

Leading me by the hand, Major Browning pulled me into the corridor. “What did you say to provoke him?”

“Me?” I gasped. “I’m innocent here and
he’s
a murderer. He’s so smug and looks like a murderer—”

“Looking like a murderer doesn’t mean he is one,” he murmured as he roped me into his protective embrace. “Daphne, Daphne, you must stop reading novels. Real life is not so dramatic.”

“It is,” I begged to differ. “Remember Padthaway and Somner House?”

He paused. “Hmm, you have a point. Danger seems to follow you, or do you follow danger? I’ve warned you before to stay out of police business. That is their job. Let them do the investigating.”

I sighed. “Maybe I’d do what you say but that would have been
before
somebody tried to shoot me. It puts a different complexion on matters, a bullet, you know. What if it hit me in the head? I’d be dead and I’d never see you again.”

Tears sprang from my eyes and I buried my face into his coat. “I’m sorry … I’ll probably ruin this … and you look so nice.”

He laughed against my hair. “Darling girl … darling
silly
girl, it was you who went to see the maid, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. I couldn’t have lied to him and if I had, I’m sure he would have intercepted it.

“The police are drawing a description, you know.”

“Oh, dear.” I shook my head. “I should have worn a disguise! Next time…”

“No. There’ll be no next time. I want your word on it, Daphne.”

He sounded so authoritative.

“Do you have any idea what it was like to be in another country when you were injured?”

“But he tried to shoot me! Jack Grimshaw. What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you suggest? Call him out? He’d just deny what he said. No, no. We’re watching him. He’ll make a mistake soon.”

“Maybe he killed Cynthia so he has full control over Rosalie?”

“We had better return before we are missed.” He put a finger to my lips. “But not before…”

His mouth caught mine and any objections faded away against the rhythm of his heart. Clinging to him there in the corridor, I failed to see the shadow approaching until it was too late.

It was my father.

“Daphne. Major. My study at once.”

*   *   *

Wary of the stern manner of the usually jovial Sir Gerald, the major kept my hand captive in his.

“I wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir,” he began the moment the door closed.

“Yes, yes.”

Retreating to his desk, my father surveyed us both. “Sit down, both of you. I have a few questions to ask and I’m looking for honest answers.

“What, sir, is your connection with the Rutlands?”

“Business, sir.”

“What kind of business?”

“I cannot say, sir.”

“This is to do with Rutland, isn’t it? That wily old dog, never trusted him. You were asked to watch the family?”

“Since the earl’s health has deteriorated, he’s made the mistake of leaving his fortune in the wrong hands. I can say no more.”

“Very well. And part of your business with them was your engagement to Lady Lara?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And she was a willing partisan in this?”

“It went two ways. She wanted the engagement for other reasons.”

“What reasons?”

“To please her father.”

“And perhaps herself? What is your relationship with the family?”

“They are friends of my parents. Lady Lara and I grew up together, for want of a better term. I regard her like a sister.”

“But she may not regard you as a brother,” my father observed. “She has a handsome dowry, too. I cannot compete with that.”

“I’m not asking you to do so, sir.”

“You choose Daphne over Lady Lara then?”

“There was never any choice, sir.”

“What do you see in my daughter? Do you love her?”

Turning to me, the major enclosed my hands in his again, a charming little protective thing he liked to do with me, I noticed. Warmed by love and support and his humility in allowing my father to interrogate him, I waited for his proposal.

“Daphne,” his voice matured to a sincere timbre, “since I met you, I cannot imagine life without you. Headstrong, intelligent, and sometimes foolishly inquisitive, you are the storm to my sea, beautiful, wild, and intoxicating. Each day is an adventure with you and if you will take me, I’d like to share life’s journey with you as your husband.”