01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (16 page)

‘Not so fast, now, my dear. I know you’ve got a bit of a thing for
Cedric, but –’

‘Let her go, Sneddon.’

The voice came out of the darkness as if from nowhere and so
unexpectedly, that both Rose and Lord Sneddon instinctively froze. Lord Sneddon
slowly released his grip on her arm and Rose stumbled almost blindly down the
stairs. Out of the shadows emerged Cedric. She thought, as she stumbled past
him and caught sight of the expression on his face, that she had never seen
anyone look so angry. Lord Sneddon, from the way he was now standing there
looking scared, obviously felt the same.

‘Listen, Cedric, it’s not what it looks like. She led me on, just as
she’s been leading you on and then decided –.’

‘Don’t bother with explanations, Sneddon.’ Cedric had advanced up the
stairs and before Hugh had a chance to react, he had punched him squarely on
the jaw and sent him flying backwards, hitting the wall and landing heavily on
his back. ‘I heard everything, Sneddon, and I mean everything,’ Cedric said,
crouching down besides his erstwhile friend and grabbing him by the collar,
yanking him up towards him so that Lord Sneddon was now put into a half lying,
half sitting position. ‘Now listen to me. I want you to leave this house first
thing tomorrow morning. I’ll make some excuse to my aunt and uncle on your
behalf, tell them you were called back to town urgently to do with some family
business or some such thing. It doesn’t matter, but I want you out of here.’

‘You’ll pay for this, Sedgwick,’ spat Lord Sneddon, putting a
handkerchief to his bleeding cheek, ‘see if you don’t. I only wanted from her
what you want. You’re just more smooth-talking than me, so the damned girl
thinks you’re in love with her,’ He staggered to his feet and down the stairs
to his room.

Cedric came over to Rose, clearly mortified.

‘Rose, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea that he was like that when
he had drink in him. I’ve heard rumours, of course, about his exploits with servants,
but I never gave them any credence. How can you ever forgive me?’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, Cedric.’ Rose longed to touch his face, such
a very handsome face, she thought. Lady Belvedere would seek to put a stop to
their relationship developing; that was the obvious purpose of their walk
tomorrow. Rose knew she would never see Cedric again; it was almost too much to
bear. She wanted to run to her room right now and throw herself on her bed and
cry.

‘You weren’t to know. And anyway, you came to my rescue. If you hadn’t
I’d be –.’ Her face crumbled and she began to sob.

‘Rose, please don’t.’ Cedric grabbed her hands in his own. ‘I can’t bear
it. And tell me you don’t believe a word Sneddon said about my feelings towards
you, I’m nothing like him, I promise you. Oh, I know that it’s far too soon and
far too forward to say so now, but you must know how much I adore you, Rose,
how much I admire and love you. I have never known a woman like you. You are so
totally unique, so totally you. Tell me that you feel the same about me as I do
about you. I don’t think I could bear it, if you didn’t.’

‘Cedric, I –.’

‘I’m being totally sincere, Rose. I’m no good at this sort of thing, but
please don’t think I’m out to ruin you, I wouldn’t dream of it. I love you.’
Rose looked up and simply stared.

‘There,’ he laughed, ‘I’ve said it and I’ll say it again. I love you,
Rose Simpson. I want you to be my wife.’

Rose gasped, hardly able to believe her ears. She wanted to laugh in turn
and throw her arms around him, but part of her held back.

‘Cedric, it’s no good, your mother will never allow it. She’ll –.’

‘Don’t worry about my mother, Rose,’ he bent and kissed her, ‘She can’t
stop us, nobody can. I’ll deal with her.’ A new harshness had entered his
voice. ‘I won’t let her destroy our happiness, not like she has my father’s.
I’ll do whatever it takes, Rose, to ensure we are together; I mean it, whatever
it takes.’  

‘She’s awful nice, you know?’ said Edna as the scullery and kitchen maids
lay in their beds in the little sparsely furnished attic room that they shared,
with its sloping ceilings enlivened by a flower sprig patterned wallpaper.
Although they were exhausted by their day’s labour, as always, especially this
weekend with so many uninvited guests resulting in additional work, they still
made time for a chat; it was part of their usual nightly routine.

‘Who is?’

‘You know exactly who I mean, Bessie Smith, unless you haven’t been
listening to a word I’ve been saying these last ten minutes; Miss Simpson, of
course.’    

‘What about her, Edna?’

‘She was awfully nice to me when she found me crying in the kitchen
garden this morning. I felt that embarrassed, I did, but she was really kind
and she promised not to tell Mrs Palmer and get me into trouble, which I bet
Lady Lavinia would have done. And she must have kept her word, because the old
bat didn’t have a go at me and you know as she would have done, any excuse to
tell us off.’

‘Well, Miss Simpson’s one of us, isn’t she?’

‘Whatever do you mean, Bessie?’

‘She works in a shop; she’s a shop girl, Edna. I overheard Mrs Palmer and
Mr Stafford talking about it. She works in that dress shop Lady Lavinia’s been
working in, you know, to do with that bet with her brother. So she’s no better
than the likes of you and me, not really.’

‘No!’ Edna sat up in her bed, her eyes large with astonishment. ‘Well I
never. But she’s got ever such nice manners and she talks quite posh, really
you’d never know.’

‘That’s because her family’s come down in the world. Apparently her
father drank and gambled away all their money, that’s what Lady Lavinia told
Martha this evening. I say that’s awful mean don’t you think, her gossiping to
us about her friend’s ill fortunes.’

‘I certainly do,’ said Edna indignant. ‘I don’t care that she’s just a
shop girl, Bessie, I think she’s a real lady. And I’m not the only one,
neither. Albert says Lord Cedric’s awful keen on her and she’s pretty keen on
him, too. Perhaps they’ll get married and she’ll be a countess one day.’

‘Don’t talk daft, Edna. You’re an awful romantic, you are. Can you really
see Lady Belvedere letting her darling son marry a shop girl? No, she’ll do
everything in her power to stop it, you mark my words. And there won’t be
anything that either of them will be able to do about it, neither.’

‘Well I think love can conquer all, Bessie, like it does in the movies.
You just wait and see, I think they’ll find a way to be together somehow.’

Rose awoke the next morning feeling elated, but also with a sense of dread.
Cedric loved her! She would in time become the next Countess of Belvedere,
would be her own mistress; no more working long hours being polite to customers
who were rude to her, or being bossed around by Madame Renard. The days of
scrimping and saving would be behind her. She would no longer have to fret
about her mother’s ever failing eyesight, for Mrs Simpson would never need to
lift another needle, save to do petit-point embroidery for her own amusement.

But it was no good. She could daydream all she liked, but Lady Belvedere
would never let it happen. She wouldn’t let her only son, destined to become
sixteenth Earl of Belvedere, marry a penniless shop girl. Cedric had promised
her that he would stand up to his mother, do whatever it took to ensure they
were together. And last night she had been happy to believe him, but in the
cold light of day she did not feel so confident. Cedric was dutiful and
obedient, he knew that he had a responsibility to maintain his social position
and estates and Lady Belvedere, Rose felt sure, would play on this. He wouldn’t
want to, but Rose suddenly knew with a sinking heart, that in the end Cedric
would concede to his mother’s wishes.

She threw back the bedclothes and began pacing the room. She couldn’t let
it happen, she couldn’t lose him. She was too close to perfect happiness to
have the countess snatch it out from under her. Rose looked at her reflection
in the mirror. Determination showed on her face, she was resolute. Last night
Cedric had told her he would do whatever it took. This morning she knew that
she would.  

When she went down for breakfast, she found that Sir William was the only
person there. Her host informed her that, as on the previous day, the married
women were breakfasting in bed and Lord Belvedere had already eaten and was in
the library. Lavinia had a headache and did not require breakfast and Lord
Sneddon, Rose felt sure, would not be coming down for he would find it
difficult to explain away the damage to his face that was sure to have resulted
from Cedric’s punch. She was not disappointed to find Cedric absent. His
presence would weaken her resolve.

She was just coming out of the dining room when Miss Crimms, who had
obviously been waiting for her to finish breakfast, came rushing over to advise
her that the countess was waiting for her by the French windows in the drawing
room. The servant hoped that Rose did not mind but, because Lady Belvedere was
keen for their walk to commence as soon as possible and following her
instructions, she had taken the liberty of gathering together a hat, coat and
gloves that she had taken from Rose’s wardrobe, so as not to delay the walk by
Rose having to go upstairs to get these items for herself.

It was with trepidation that Rose joined the countess in the drawing
room. There was no outward acknowledgement of the other’s presence or any
attempt to exchange pleasantries. Lady Belvedere merely opened one of the
French windows and walked through onto the terrace. Like an obedient child,
Rose followed.  

In different circumstances she would have enjoyed this walk, as she
followed Lady Belvedere through the well-tended gardens, cutting across a
corner of the parkland to the woods beyond. This was an area that they had
failed to explore yesterday.  She would have enjoyed it, she knew, if she
had been here with Cedric or Lavinia, the Lavinia of before yesterday afternoon
that was, the one she was used to in the shop who would giggle at a joke behind
Madame Renard’s back. Even with Lady Belvedere as her unwelcome companion, it
was not lost on Rose that the day itself promised to be another fine one and,
even in her apprehension of what lay ahead, she could appreciate the beauty of
the greenness of the lawns and the countryside all around her, so different
from the greyness of the London she was used to. She took in the sweet smell of
freshly mown grass, the vivid colours of the flowers in bloom. It seemed so
peaceful, so inviting, such an unsuitable backdrop in fact, for a
confrontation.

Meanwhile the Countess of Belvedere was striding forward at such a pace
that Rose was finding it difficult to keep up and had to resort to half
running, half walking in an effort not to be left behind. She stumbled along as
best she could. She knew she would arrive at her destination hot, flustered and
out of breath, whereas this seemed to be Lady Belvedere’s usual walking pace,
for the lady herself seemed hardly aware of Rose’s presence or the heat,
certainly she did not turn around to make sure that she was following her; it
was as if she had forgotten the girl’s existence.

The woodland, when they reached it, seemed dark and uninviting after the
fierce brightness of the gardens and Rose hesitated before entering, hovering
on the edge. The countess seemed oblivious to Rose’s uneasiness for she marched
right in, barely stopping to identify a path through the trees.

Their progress slowed as they walked deeper into the woods and had to
negotiate the odd fallen branch and twigs. The gardens, the parkland and
Ashgrove House seemed far away and Rose wondered if she would ever be able to
find her way back without Lady Belvedere’s assistance, or whether she would be
lost in the woods forever going round and round in circles never being able to
find her way out.

The countess stopped abruptly and turned to face the girl, drawing
herself up to her full imposing height.

 ‘Right, this will do, Miss Simpson, we have come far enough. I
wanted to make sure that we wouldn’t be overheard as no doubt we would have
been if we had taken a walk in the gardens. What I have to say to you is for
you alone.’

If the countess was awaiting a reaction to her words, she waited in vain.

‘I will not beat about the bush, Miss Simpson. As you are no doubt aware,
I speak my mind. You can be in little doubt as to why I wanted to have a talk
with you.’

‘Indeed, Lady Belvedere, I have absolutely no idea why you should wish to
speak to me.’ Rose clenched her fist to give herself more courage. Her voice,
she was pleased to hear, did not sound scared. ‘Ever since we have been introduced
you seem to have gone out of your way either to ignore me completely or to snub
me. To what I owe this current pleasure, I cannot imagine.’

‘No doubt you think yourself very clever, Miss Simpson, and perhaps you
are in your own way. But I will not have this insolence, this pretence at
denseness. We both know what you are trying to do, what your goal is, but I can
tell you here and now that you can scheme as much as you want, but you will not
succeed.’

 ‘Indeed, Lady Belvedere, I know no such thing,’ replied Rose
coolly. ‘I am not aware that I have been scheming as you put it. My intention
is just to enjoy a weekend in the country with my friend.’

‘Enough of this pretence.’ The countess was beginning to look
annoyed.  ‘I know that you have gone out of your way to befriend my
daughter, to encourage her in her idiotic game playing at being lower class.
You imagine no doubt that such a relationship will bring you advantages, that
you may use it to elevate your position in society. You have also set your designs
upon my son. You think you can bewitch him with your charms. Do you really
think Cedric could be interested in a girl like you? He finds you a curiosity,
nothing more, something to enliven a dull weekend. But if you hope to become
something more to him, you are mistaken. Unlike you, he is born for great
things.  In time he will become the sixteenth Earl of Belvedere and he
will need a wife of his own class who is worthy of him. He will marry a member
of the aristocracy, the daughter of a viscount or a baron perhaps, or even the
daughter of a duke or marquis, but certainly not someone like you!’ Lady
Belvedere spat out the words in a disgusted laugh.

‘If you believe that to be so, Lady Belvedere, that Cedric can have no
real interest in me, then I’m surprised that you’ve taken the trouble to have a
talk with me.’

‘My son is young and impressionable, Miss Simpson and it is possible that
in an unguarded moment you may manage to lead him astray, but, I warn you,
before you do something that you may, no
will
regret, that if you are
thinking of trying to trap my son, then you had better think again. Cedric will
not be blackmailed into an undesirable marriage. Do you really think that the
Belvedere family has never dealt with the likes of you before? Do you honestly
think I am just going to stand back and let my only son ruin his life?’

‘I think you have insulted me quite enough, Lady Belvedere.  I’m not
going to stay and waste my breath trying to argue with you. I could tell you
that you have got it all wrong, that you don’t know me at all, but I know you
wouldn’t believe a word I say.’

‘You’re right, Miss Simpson, on all accounts. How very perceptive of you.
I want you to pack up and leave immediately. Go back to the house, make some
excuse to Lavinia for your sudden departure and then summon a maid to pack your
case, although,’ Lady Belvedere broke off to look Rose up and down
disparagingly, ‘you are no doubt used to packing your own bags, I doubt very
much whether your mother has a servant. So no need after all to trouble my
sister’s servants. However, I am sure if you ask politely enough they will
arrange for the chauffeur to drive you to the railway station.’

‘You mistake my meaning, Lady Belvedere. When I said that I would not
stay here, I meant literally that. I meant I’m not staying in these woods to be
insulted by you. I have no intention of leaving Ashgrove House.’

‘But I demand that you do!’ Lady Belvedere, who was not used to being
contradicted, was beginning to go red in the face.

‘You have no authority to demand that I leave, Lady Belvedere. I am here
as the guest of Sir William and Lady Withers and, I might add’, here Rose
paused to pluck up the necessary courage, ‘unlike you, I am an invited guest.’

‘How dare you, Miss Simpson! Lady Withers is my sister. I need no formal
invitation to come and stay here. Do you think this rudeness does you any
favours? It certainly won’t win me over. Do you really think that I’ll back
down?’

‘I have no idea what you will do, Lady Belvedere. But if I am being rude,
it is only in response to your rudeness to me. You have made it evident to
everyone, including the servants, how much you resent me and my presence here
at Ashgrove House. And today you have left me in little doubt as to your
feeling towards me. So if I am being rude to you, it is no more than you
deserve.’

Silence filled the woodland, an uneasy, almost eerie silence, in stark
contrast to the raised voices just before. Rose found herself shaking; she was too
shocked to speak further. Never before had anyone spoken to her with such
hatred, and never had she felt driven to speak to anyone so rudely. How
appalled her mother would have been if she could have heard her. Lady
Belvedere’s face was quite purple now with rage and she was trembling. During
the course of her tirade her voice had risen until her last few sentences had
been almost shouted, strands of her hair escaping from her bun. For the first
time that morning, Rose was pleased that the conversation had not taken place
in the gardens where there almost certainly would have been witnesses to this
spectacle.  

The quietness that followed the scene felt unnatural, more a lull before
the storm than after it, and Rose almost wished that the countess would
continue with her threats or turn and walk away, not just stand there and stare
at her with obvious hatred. She realised suddenly that neither woman knew what
to do to break the deadlock.

When she heard the twig snap, it did not surprise her unduly or seem of
significance. It was so quiet, this unnatural silence, with the two women
glowering at each other that she expected sound to be amplified. So she made
the mistake of dismissing it as just some creature scurrying about amongst the
undergrowth, although it had been loud enough to cause both women to inwardly
start and look up, momentarily distracted from their confrontation. Later, Rose
told the inspector she was sure that the noise had come from behind a clump of
bushes or undergrowth some way off behind her, but at the time she had been too
disorientated with shock following the row to be sure, and she had had her back
to it whereas Lady Belvedere had had a clear view.  It was only later,
when the reality of the situation hit her that she wondered whether Lady
Belvedere had seen something that she herself had not. Rose herself had not
turned around. She might have done so had it not been for the reaction of the
countess which had distracted and alarmed her. For Lady Belvedere had seemed to
draw a breath, as if she had been taken aback. The colour had drained from her
face and she had suddenly looked afraid. This rapid transformation from a
fierce woman
to a cowering one had frightened Rose and she had
instinctively taken a step towards Lady Belvedere, what her intention in doing
so exactly was she did not know for it seemed strange and inappropriate somehow
to try and comfort or reassure the woman who only minutes earlier had been
berating her. As it happened it did not matter for at the last moment she had
inadvertently stumbled and lurched forward. She had tried desperately to catch
at Lady Belvedere’s arm to stop herself from falling, but had failed. At the
same instant that she had hit the ground she had heard the gun shot rip through
the air. It had been very loud and she had lain there trembling, not trying to
get up, knowing exactly what it was.

When Rose did at last look up, she could not see Lady Belvedere at first.
Where she had been standing there was just emptiness, as if she had been
swallowed up by the trees and disappeared. But then Rose had lowered her eyes
to the ground and seen the figure lying prostrate on the earth amongst the
twigs and leaves. For a moment she had been unable to take it in, wondering
whether her own heart had stopped, and then she had tried to hurry towards the
body. Due to the shock she found that she had insufficient energy to drag
herself up on to her feet. Instead she had crawled forward on her hands and
knees feeling the dry earth beneath her palms, vaguely aware that she was
ruining her one good day dress but not caring.