01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (25 page)

‘Very well, my dear, if anything a little too much detail but I doubt the
inspector minds that too much; much better than too little, what, Inspector?’

‘Yes, indeed. Very comprehensive, thank you, Lady Withers. Now tell me,
are you aware of your sister having any enemies?’

‘Oh I expect she had loads, Inspector. In fact, I think you’d have a job
finding anyone who actually liked her. I know she was my sister and all that,
but she could be very unpleasant and unkind, couldn’t she, William? I’ve often
said that –.’

‘Yes, thank you, Lady Withers,’ interrupted Deacon, hurriedly, ‘but were
you aware of any specific enemies?’

‘Not as such, no, Inspector, although I have to admit there was one
occasion when we were children when I was very sorely tempted to push my sister
out of the window myself. She’d just pulled the legs off my favourite doll and
cut its hair, and all because I wouldn’t play a game of snakes and ladders with
her. Well, as I was saying, the window was open and she was leaning rather
unwisely out of it, and it was just so tempting. It was all I could do to
resist the temptation to pull her hair and push her out. Quite a nasty drop it
would have been too.’

‘I’ll take that as a no, shall I, Lady Withers? Sir William, I don’t
think I asked you what you did after you had finished breakfast, did I, Lane?’
Deacon looked to his sergeant who thumbed through the pages of his notebook and
shook his head.

‘That’s easy, Inspector. I went to the drawing room and read the paper,’
said Sir William, sitting back in his seat, ‘I was expecting that one or other
of our guests would join me in due course, but no-one did. I stayed there
reading until Stafford came to find me to tell me about the shooting.’

‘Thank you. Now Lady Withers, did you happen to hear Lady Belvedere tell
Miss Simpson last night in the drawing room after dinner that she would like her
to go for a walk with her this morning?’

‘Of course I did, Inspector, I expect everyone did, although perhaps not
William as you can be a little deaf, can’t you, darling?’ Lady Withers said,
raising her voice rather unnecessarily considering that her husband was sitting
right next to her.

‘Nonsense, my dear.’

‘Well, how do you explain, darling, that you often don’t hear a word I
say to you about things and so I’m forced to repeat myself until I’m quite blue
in the face, not to say bored. Why, I was telling you only the other day all
about the very juicy gossip that I had gleaned at Mrs Atherton’s about Lady
Belington’s niece, when I went there to sort the things out for the village
bazaar, and a more strange assortment of donations I couldn’t imagine, but anyway,
if you remember, you didn’t hear a word I said, I had to repeat myself at least
twice.’

‘I’m afraid, my dear, that my hearing is sometimes rather selective where
you are concerned,’ admitted Sir William, rather apologetically. ‘You know I
don’t like gossip, it sets a very bad example to the servants. But as it
happens, I didn’t hear your sister mention going on a walk with Miss Simpson.
If I had, I’d have put a stop to it, I can tell you, Inspector,’ he continued,
looking at the policeman and sounding indignant. ‘I’m blowed if I’d allow any
guest of mine to be bullied in my own house, I can tell you; not on at all, I’d
certainly have put a stop to it if I’d known about it.’  

‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you would have,’ said Lady Withers, patting his knee
in what she intended to be a soothing manner. ‘But I expect everyone else
heard. I’m afraid that I think that was Marjorie’s intention, to humiliate the
poor girl, which really wasn’t very fair. I mean you can’t blame the girl, can
you? It’s not really her fault if she wants to better her position, I’m sure
I’d have done the same in her place.’

‘You think Miss Simpson was after Lord Sedgwick?’

‘Well, of course she was, Inspector, any fool could have seen that. But
the surprising thing is that she seemed to be having some success. I mean the
poor girl is such a plain little thing, isn’t she, William, she definitely was
last in line when looks were handed out. But Cedric obviously saw something in
her, although what exactly I can’t quite think, I mean the boy’s surrounded by
loads of beautiful young women, being as he is so eligible and everything, so
why he would choose little Miss Simpson –‘

‘Really, my dear,’ protested Sir William. ‘I think you are being most
unkind about Lavinia’s friend.’

‘So do I,’ mouthed Lane silently, from where he sat scribbling, totally
unseen by Sir William and Lady Withers, but catching the inspector’s eye.

‘All I’m saying, William, is that you can’t really blame the poor girl
for shooting my sister, can you? I mean to say she was provoked. Goodness knows
Marjorie’s provoked me often enough with her unkind words. It’s just fortunate
for me, isn’t it, that Miss Simpson got in there first. Otherwise it could’ve
been –.’

‘Constance!’ Sir William sounded shocked. ‘Please, Inspector, ignore what
my wife’s just said, she doesn’t mean it at all about Miss Simpson or herself.
I’m afraid she’s just said it for effect. Really, my dear, if you’re not
careful, the Inspector will take what you’ve said seriously.’

‘Oh, but I am being serious, William, the inspector knows that. I know
she’s awfully young and it’s a great shame, but really the only person who
could have done it was Miss Simpson. It can’t possibly have been anyone else,
it’s just not the sort of thing we’d do.’

‘Well, I’m afraid that I’ll have to disagree with you there, Lady
Withers,’ said Deacon, looking at her rather sternly. ‘In our opinion, Miss
Simpson is the only person who couldn’t have done it. Well, not without an
accomplice, anyway.’

‘Oh, dear, how very inconvenient,’ said Lady Withers, sighing. ‘Well, in
that case, I suppose it must have been Lord Sneddon. How unfortunate. It does
make it so awkward, doesn’t it, when a member of the aristocracy commits a
crime. And he’s heir to a dukedom, oh dear. I told you, didn’t I, William, that
there was something about him I didn’t quite like? And now I’ve been proved
right. How very inconsiderate of Cedric to bring a murderer down with him,
although I suppose he wasn’t to know, was he that Lord Sneddon was going to pop
off his mother.’

‘What makes you think Lord Sneddon is the murderer, Lady Withers?’ asked
Deacon, not anticipating a very sensible answer.

‘Because he was up and about last night, or the early hours of this
morning, Inspector, when the rest of the house was asleep.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked the inspector, sharply. Sergeant Lane
had stopped writing and was looking up expectantly.

‘Oh, because I saw him wondering about downstairs when I went down for my
night time snack, Inspector.’

‘Night time snack?’

‘Yes, Inspector, my wife often feels a little bit peckish at night and so
Mrs Palmer always leaves a little something out for her in the kitchen,’
explained Sir William.  ‘Really, my dear, that was a very large dinner
that Mrs Palmer gave us last night; I’m surprised you had room to eat anything
else.’

‘Well, I only picked at my food last night, darling. If you remember,
there was such a terrible atmosphere as if everyone knew that something was
going to happen, that it quite put me off my appetite. And then I woke up in the
middle of the night and felt hungry. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep,
but I couldn’t. So I thought I’d just get a little something to tide me over
till breakfast.’

‘Where did you see Lord Sneddon, Lady Withers?’ asked Deacon.

‘In the hall, Inspector. I assumed that he’d been feeling peckish too and
had just come from the kitchen, but I suppose he might have just come out of
your study, William.’

‘Was he carrying anything, Lady Withers?’

‘No, I don’t think so, Inspector, but he did have a very murderous
expression on his face. Really, he did look most frightening and I remember
thinking at the time that it would be a great pity if Lavinia married him,
because he didn’t strike me as a very nice man at all.’

‘That was all quite draining, wasn’t it, William? I don’t know how you
managed it, darling, being interviewed twice, so to speak,’ said Lady Withers
to her husband as they returned to the drawing room, where the others were
awaiting their return eagerly, keen to ascertain if there had been any
developments. ‘Ah now, here you all are. I told the inspector that we simply
couldn’t all be kept cooped up together in one room, first the dining room and
now this one. He quite understood how we felt, didn’t he, William?’ She turned
towards her husband to get his confirmation. ‘Really, he’s not too bad for a
policeman. He says we’re free to move around the house and the gardens as long
as nobody tries to leave or go up into the woods. Apparently the constables are
still searching there for evidence or clues or something like that. Speaking
for myself, I can’t imagine ever wanting to go there again; the sound of every
twig snapping …’

Lavinia started to cry and Lady Withers went over to comfort her.

‘There, there, my dear, how very inconsiderate of me, what was I
thinking? Now have a good little cry; it’s far better to let it all out, you
know. You’re bound to feel better if you do.’ She turned to face the others. ‘I
thought some of us might be beginning to feel a little bit hungry as we all
rather picked at our food at luncheon, didn’t we. I know I did and that I’m
beginning to regret it now that the shock’s begun to wear off.  So I’ve
asked Stafford to arrange for some afternoon tea to be brought out to us on the
terrace. I think the sunshine will do us all good. That, together with some
food, should lift our spirits a bit, don’t you think?’

‘Really, my dear,’ said Sir William, sounding a little shocked. ‘I think
it’s going to take a lot more than a good tea and some sunshine to do that.
This has been an awful tragedy for all of us. But I think the inspector was
keen to take a break from interviewing. Lord Sneddon, Edith, he asked if you
could stay near the house as he’s still to interview you.’

‘Really,’ said Lord Sneddon, looking irritated. ‘I don’t mean to sound
unreasonable, but surely I should have been one of the first to be interviewed
rather than one of the last. Does he know who I am? This is all damned
inconvenient, I can tell you. I really do need to be leaving.’

‘If it was up to me you would have left already,’ retorted Cedric,
angrily. ‘But is it too much to ask that you show some consideration and have a
thought for what the rest of us are going through? My mother was murdered this
morning and all you seem concerned about is how it might impact on your plans.’

‘I think the inspector was keen to talk to Lady Belvedere’s family
first,’ said Sir William, hastily, eager to avoid an argument erupting between
the two young men.

‘My dear,’ said his wife, looking at Lord Sneddon with sudden interest,
‘whatever has happened to your poor face? You look as if you have walked into
something. Oh dear, I’m sure that the police will be very eager to ask you all
about it. Don’t you think so, William?’

Lord Sneddon glared at everyone in the room and went outside.

‘I thought you’d want to do all the interviews before we took a break,
sir,’ said Lane, getting up and stretching his legs again, ‘though I must say I
could do with a cup of tea and another slice of Mrs Palmer’s delicious cake to
keep me going.’

‘My thoughts exactly, Sergeant, I thought we could both do with a break.
I know that I’m getting rather tired and bored of asking the same questions of
everyone. I was keen also to get your views on Lady Withers. What did you make
of her?’

‘Well, to tell you the truth, sir, she seemed to me to be a little bit
odd. I mean she was quite excited by it all, as if it was all an adventure,
even though we were talking about her sister’s murder. Very strange if you ask
me; do you think she’s a bit simple, sir? She was awfully vague and rambling,
wasn’t she? Half the time she was talking a lot of old
nonsense.’        

‘Oh, I think she was very much all there, Lane,’ said Deacon, laughing.
‘If you ask me, it was all an act. I expect she behaves like that all the time
because it puts everyone else at a distinct disadvantage; they don’t know how
to take her, whether she’s being serious or trying to be funny, or just happens
to be like that. Did you see how anxious Sir William was about her, how he kept
leaping in to clarify what she meant? I think he was very worried about what
she might say. I wonder whether he was afraid that she might incriminate
herself.’

‘Well, she did a bit, sir, didn’t she?’ said Lane, eagerly, beginning to
warm to the idea. ‘She admitted that there had been no love lost between her
and her sister and that she had even half-heartedly thought about killing her
when they were young. You never know, she may have been harbouring murderous
thoughts all these years. Although I don’t know how serious she was being, do
you?’

‘Actually, I think she was being very serious. I was just wondering
whether it was all rather a double bluff. What I was particularly interested in
though, Lane, was that she was keen to deliberately try and implicate Miss
Simpson in the murder and then when that didn’t work, Lord Sneddon. What does
that tell you?’

‘That she doesn’t want the murderer to be a member of her family, sir,
which I suppose is understandable.’

‘Oh, I think it tells us a bit more than that, Lane. I think it tells us
that she definitely knows, or thinks she knows, who the murderer is and that he
or she is someone close to her who she is keen to protect. I think she’s
deliberately trying to divert suspicion from that person by accusing someone
else.’

‘Rose will you take a walk with me in the garden?’ Cedric disentangled
himself from his sister and walked over to her. It was the first time he had
taken any apparent interest in her since it had all happened, and Rose could
not help her heart from leaping, even if it seemed somewhat inappropriate given
the circumstances.

‘Cedric, do be careful.’ Lavinia caught at her brother’s arm and gave
Rose a contemptuous look; Rose stood there awkwardly, feeling miserable. She
felt her cheeks grow hot and began to blush, conscious that everyone else was
witness to her humiliation. Cedric, glaring at his sister, said nothing but
took Rose by the arm and together they walked out onto the terrace and on into
the formal gardens.

‘I’m sorry about all that, Rose,’ Cedric said, after they had gone a
little way.

‘Surely Lavinia can’t think I did it?’

‘I think she’s more concerned that I did it and that I might tell you so.’
They stopped walking abruptly and he took both her hands in his. ‘I don’t know
what to do, Rose, what to think. Part of me can’t even believe that this has
all happened. I keep expecting my mother to appear any moment and start
lecturing me as usual. I don’t think I can have quite taken it all in yet. I
will never see my mother again and I don’t feel anything yet, just numb.’

‘It’s just the shock of it all, I’m sure it’s normal to feel like that.’
Rose stroked his cheek, gently. She did not know what more to say. What was one
expected to say in such a situation? The usual words of condolence one uttered
on hearing of a bereavement seemed superficial and shallow when dealing with a
death arising from a murder.

‘Oh, but listen to me. I have gone on about myself and not for one moment
have I asked after you,’ Cedric said, sounding disgusted with himself. ‘How are
you feeling? You were with my mother when it all happened. It must have been
awful for you. You saw her be shot and then you had to deal with her dead body
all covered with blood, oh, I ….’ He covered his face with his hand. ‘I’m
sorry, Rose, I can’t even bring myself to think about it, and yet it must have
been so much worse for you, actually being there.’

‘It was awful, yes,’ admitted Rose. ‘And I’m finding it hard to get the
image out of my head. I keep reliving it again and again. But I just feel so
useless, I don’t know what to do. I feel that I am just in the way and that
somehow it is all my fault, that if your mother hadn’t wanted to talk to me and
insisted that we go for a walk, then all this might not have happened and she
would be here now.’

‘Rose, you mustn’t blame yourself. If anyone is to blame it is my mother.
She should not have tried to interfere. She had no right to try and make you
leave. You were my aunt and uncle’s invited guest, not her. I cannot tell you
how much I admire you for standing up to my mother. If I had known what her
intention was this morning, I would have stopped that stupid walk from taking
place. If only I had overheard her telling you last night. Why didn’t you tell
me about it after that business with Hugh on the stairs? We were quite alone
then, you should have said. I could have put a stop to it right there. I could
have gone to my mother’s room and had it out with her there and then.’

‘I was embarrassed,’ Rose said, miserably. ‘And then when you told me
your feelings for me, well, it all went completely out of my mind. I recall
that I did mention that I did not think she would let us be together, but you
said that it was alright, that you would do whatever it took.’

‘Yes, and I meant it.’ He suddenly clutched her almost painfully by the
shoulders as if a sudden thought had come to him. ‘Rose, tell me, you surely
don’t think I meant …’ He could not bring himself to say the words to finish
his sentence. Instead he looked at her beseechingly. ‘You don’t believe for one
moment that I could do something like that, do you? Not to my own mother …’

‘No, of course not,’ Rose said, hurriedly, ‘no, of course I don’t,’ and as
she said it, she realised with relief that she was being sincere.

‘I can’t imagine how anyone could have done it and yet someone must have.
When Uncle William put forward the theory that it must have been a poacher who
had shot my mother by mistake, well, of course it was tragic, but it seemed to
make sense somehow, an accident, an awful accident. But it can’t really have
happened like that, can it? Not now that we know that my uncle’s gun cabinet
was broken into. It must have been one of us; I can’t get that thought out of
my mind, it was one of us! And do you know what the worst of it is, Rose? There
is a part of me that doesn’t want to know who it was, who doesn’t want to see
justice done, who wants the murderer to go free because I can’t bear to find out
that it is someone I care about. But it won’t do, because the more I think
about it, the more I realise that the murderer must be caught, whoever it is.
If they’re not, I don’t see how we can all go on with our lives. They’ll just
stand still with everyone suspicious of everyone else, wondering whether it was
them. You do see that Rose, don’t you, the murderer has got to be caught.’

Rose nodded slowly. She longed to tell him of her suspicion that she had
been the intended target and that Lady Belvedere had simply been shot by
mistake at the crucial moment because she, Rose, had stumbled and tripped. But
the police had asked her not to divulge this theory to anyone connected with
the case. It was tempting just to tell Cedric and swear him to secrecy, but the
basic instinct for self-preservation made her hold her
tongue.     

Shortly afterwards they had returned to the others to take tea on the
terrace. Cedric had left her apologetically to go and comfort his sister, who
was standing beside her father, looking dejected. Only Sir William came over to
enquire whether she was alright, although she noticed that the earl threw her
the occasional concerned glance in his usual shy way. Lady Withers was busying
herself issuing instructions to Stafford, an occupation which seemed to calm
her and bring a surreal sense of normality to the proceeding of afternoon tea.
Every now and then, Sir William went over to Edith to ensure that she was
coping with what for everyone was a difficult situation to find themselves in.
Edith in turn looked over at Rose as if she wished to join her but was unsure
of her welcome given their previous conversation. Lord Sneddon stood away from
them all, clutching a cup of tea. Occasionally he cast a glance in Lavinia’s
direction as if he wondered whether he should go over to her and offer his
condolences or try to comfort her, but was clearly deterred by the presence of
her brother by her side who was forever scowling at him. In addition, it was
unclear how he would be received by Lavinia herself. For not once, as far as
Rose could tell, had Lavinia looked in his direction.

Rose helped herself to another sandwich and a cup of tea. She still did
not feel like eating and had to almost force herself to swallow, but she knew
that she must keep up her strength in order to face the ordeal before her.
Cedric was right, she knew, the murderer must be identified and brought to
justice for any of them to be free of this situation. Until then none of them
would be able to get on with their lives. It did not matter that in life Lady
Belvedere had been such an utterly unpleasant person, deserving of such a fate
if anyone did. In death she would blight all their lives unless the culprit was
caught, Rose could see that. And yet she was scared to discover who had done
such an awful deed. She had told Cedric that she knew he could not be capable
of such a thing, and yet he had a motive, as did she. Did she really know that
he was innocent? She hoped he was, of course, it was essential to her own
happiness that he was and yet …

There was nothing for it. She must find the identity of the murderer
herself and before the police did. And if she found that it was Cedric, well
then she could take a view as to what to do about it. She felt that she could
not send him to the gallows; she would rather die herself than do that. And it
was not just that she must solve the murder so that they might all escape
untarnished; she must solve it because there was a possibility that she had
been the intended target and, if that was the case, her life might still be in
jeopardy.