01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (26 page)

Rose looked over to where Lord Sneddon was standing, dark and aloof and
disgruntled. In a certain light, and when he was less brooding, he looked
handsome, but he did not now. It would be easiest for them all if he were
guilty. Indeed, the way he had behaved towards her the previous night, she
almost wished that he was. She shuddered to think what would have happened had
Cedric not appeared when he did out of the shadows. Yes, she did not feel that
she would be sorry to discover that he killed Lady Belvedere. In fact, she
could argue a highly plausible case for him being the murderer. He did not
strike her as a man who would take too kindly to being humiliated or refused.
She thought he was entirely the sort of man who would stop at nothing to get
his own back by whatever means were at his disposal, and that if those means be
murder, so be it. He had been humiliated twofold by her rejecting his advances
and by Cedric punching him and demanding that he leave. He had threatened last
night to get his own back. What better way than to kill her and ensure that
Cedric did not get the woman he loved and who loved him in return, but who had
made the mistake of spurning the advances of his friend.

Lord Sneddon must have become aware that she was looking at him, for he
turned and caught her eye. Rose was ready to look away immediately; she could
not bear to see the contemptuous way he would look at her, the ever present
sneer. But when she looked at him, she saw that he was afraid, and when the
constable came to get him to take him to the library to be interviewed by the
inspector, she saw that his hands were shaking as he put his cup and saucer on
the table and was led away. 

Lady Withers cast a quick look at her husband and guests gathered around
in twos and threes on the terrace having tea. Good. They all appeared engrossed
in what they were saying or doing, except for that friend of Lavinia’s, Miss
Simpson, who was however sitting far enough away so as not to be in a position
to overhear her conversation with Stafford. Just to be on the safe side she
would point to the garden or pick up a sandwich so it would look to the casual
observer as if she were discussing its filling or the quality of bread. She
knew she could rely on Stafford to play along; even if he thought something was
amiss he would not let it show in his face. Whatever would she do without her
butler? He was such a calming influence, so reliable in this time of grief and
disaster. Really, he was the very rock of Ashgrove, without him the world would
fall apart.

‘Stafford, I wonder if you could tell me something.’

‘Certainly, m’lady, if it is within my powers to do so.’

‘This morning, when Sir William was being interviewed by the policemen,
you came to fetch him on a matter of urgency, did you not?’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

‘Don’t worry, Stafford, I’m not going to ask you what that urgent matter
was.’ The briefest flicker of the butler’s eyelids was all that indicated that
he was pleased to have Lady Withers’ reassurance on this. If truth be told, he
always felt uncomfortable if he thought his loyalties were being split between
his master and mistress; on the odd occasion when this happened, he found that,
often as not, he sided with Lady Withers even though it was Sir William who
paid his wages.

‘You wanted to speak to my husband urgently,’ Lady Withers continued,
picking up a sandwich at random and pretending to examine its filling, ‘but he
insisted on stopping first to talk to someone in the drawing room, didn’t he?
Can you tell me please who it was he wished to speak to so particularly?’

‘M’lady, I’m afraid I don’t recall, I –.’

‘Nonsense, Stafford, of course you do, you remember everything. It’s no
good trying to spare my feelings. The truth will out and I’d rather hear it
from you than from the inspector or his smug sergeant.’

‘Well, m’lady, I think I do recall now. It was Mrs Torrington, I believe.
The master caught sight of her on the landing as we were crossing the hall. I
think he had the idea of finding out from her how Miss Simpson was doing. If
you remember, it was agreed that Mrs Torrington should sit with her because it
was not felt that she was in a fit state to be left alone.’

‘Thank you, Stafford that was all I wanted to know. I thought as much,
but I just wanted to be certain.’ Lady Withers turned her face away, but not
before the butler had caught sight of a tear in her eye.

‘My lord, I must apologise for keeping you waiting,’ Deacon said
pleasantly, as Lord Sneddon walked purposefully across the floor and took the
chair indicated. ‘But I’m sure you appreciate that it was necessary for us to
interview Lady Belvedere’s family first.’ Lord Sneddon, who had entered the
library intending to complain in the strongest terms about not being one of the
first to be interviewed, found himself nodding.

‘Right, now let’s get straight down to business, shall we, so that we
detain you for as little time as possible.’

Lane smiled. The inspector had definitely got the measure of this young
man, he’d taken the wind right out of his sails by uttering an apology before a
complaint was raised. And now, if he were not mistaken, Deacon would lull him
into a false sense of security before he pounced. 

‘Right, you are a friend of Lord Sedgwick’s, I understand, and you both
decided to come down this weekend to Ashgrove. Why was that?’

‘Cedric, Lord Sedgwick, knew his sister would be down, she had written to
him to that effect, and we were both rather keen to find out how she was getting
on with this working in a shop lark. Neither of us could imagine that she’d
like it, not her sort of thing at all,’ Sneddon laughed rather nastily, Deacon
thought. ‘I can’t see her being any good at it, I’m amazed that she’s managed
to stick it out for as long as she has. And, of course, we were rather
intrigued as to the friend she’d made in the shop. We thought it would be a bit
of a hoot to come and see what she was like. Cedric’s aunt really is a dreadful
snob and we couldn’t imagine them hitting it off at all. I wanted to see old
Stafford’s face too, he’s a bit of a stickler you know for etiquette and
tradition and although he’d be absolutely horrified at having to wait on a shop
girl, I can tell you, he’d be doing his utmost not to show it.’ He laughed
heartily.

Nothing Lord Sneddon had just said had done anything to make him go up in
the estimations of the policemen. Lane sat glowering behind him scribbling down
his words; he hoped fervently that this gentleman would be found to be the
murderer because he thought he would experience a
certain sense of
satisfaction to see him dangling at the end of a rope. Deacon himself wondered
how this man and Lord Sedgwick had come to be friends and concluded that the
younger of the men was impressionable and probably apt to assume the best in
people. Certainly he had now been thoroughly disillusioned as shown by the
bruise on Lord Sneddon’s face.

‘What happened to your face, my lord?’ Lord Sneddon had the grace to look
down at the floor and squirm slightly in his chair as his mind worked furiously
trying to explain away his injuries.

‘I fell over last night in my room, tripped on an edge of the carpet
which happened not to be securely fastened down and banged the side of my face
on the chest of drawers. It hurt, I can tell you.’

‘I’m sure it did,’ the inspector said, slowly, all traces of pleasantness
gone from his voice, ‘but we have been given another explanation for the state
of your face this morning, which somewhat differs from your account.’

‘If you already know how I got this,’ retorted Sneddon angrily, pointing
to his injured cheek, ‘then why bother to ask me?’

‘I was interested to know whether you’d tell me the truth,’ replied
Deacon. ‘It is always useful to determine how truthful a suspect is, if one can.’

An uneasy silence filled the room as Lord Sneddon digested the words and
tried to wrestle with the need to make a clean breast of things against his
feelings of superiority towards the policemen.

‘Look, if you must know, I’m not proud of myself for how I got this,
which is why I made up that story about tripping and striking my face against
the furniture. I know it’s no excuse, but I was quite drunk and I thought I was
doing the right thing to try and save my friend from himself.’ He looked up
suddenly and smiled. ‘Besides, I was just following orders.’ 

‘Indeed, whose orders?’ Deacon tried to keep the excitement from his
voice.

‘Lady Belvedere’s.’ Lord Sneddon laughed at the surprised expression on
the policeman’s face. ‘Oh, I’m not actually saying that she asked me to seduce
Miss Simpson, no, Inspector, even a woman of her character would not demand
that, well not in so many words, anyway. More she implied it, or rather she
indicated that she would see it as a great favour should I take whatever measures
I deemed necessary to bring down Miss Simpson in her son’s estimations. Ruining
her reputation so to speak seemed a good way of doing that. Oh dear, Inspector,
I’ve shocked you. I can tell from your face, although you are trying very hard
not to show it.’

‘Why would you want to follow Lady Belvedere’s orders?’

‘I want to marry her daughter, Inspector. Well, want may be a bit too
strong a word. A man in my position needs a wife, although I must say I have
been putting it off for as long as possible. But there it is. I need a suitable
wife, and dear Lavinia fits the bill, so to speak. As only daughter of an earl,
she comes from the right sort of family, is beautiful and quite amusing and,
even more importantly, Inspector, her family is very wealthy. What more could I
ask for in a wife?’

‘When did you and Lady Belvedere discuss all this?’

‘Yesterday afternoon. She summoned me as she did afterwards Lavinia and
Cedric. It was quite funny really, she was used to getting her own way in all
things, you see, but on this occasion it happened to suit me, otherwise I
wouldn’t have obliged, I can tell you. She wanted to discuss my intentions
towards her daughter and I was happy to inform her. You must understand,
Inspector, that a man in my position has a very big net from which to draw a
wife. There are not that many heirs to a dukedom who are as eligible as I am in
age or, all modesty aside, in looks and accomplishments. Lady Belvedere was
keen to secure me for her daughter. And while I freely acknowledge that Lavinia
is very beautiful, she is getting on rather. She has a number of seasons behind
her and she’s quite headstrong, take this shop work lark as an example, so I
assume the countess was all too ready to get her off her hands and have her
settle down.’

‘Yes, but what I don’t understand, my lord, is why she would even
consider asking you to do such a dreadful thing as to try and take Miss Simpson
by force. Whatever would make her think that you would even contemplate doing
such a dreadful act and, even more surprisingly from where I’m sitting, is that
you agreed to do it.’

‘Now, hang on a minute, Inspector,’ Lord Sneddon said, quickly, ‘who said
anything about taking any one by force? Lady Belvedere wanted me to seduce Miss
Simpson, I admit it, but that’s all she wanted me to do. There was no talk or
suggestion about taking the girl against her will. Besides there was no need,
she would have been agreeable, I would have won her around in the end.’

‘Indeed, as you did on the Friday night? Presumably you had not received
your instructions from Lady Belvedere by then?’

‘No, I just thought it would be rather fun, that’s all. Plus I was
concerned that Cedric seemed a bit too fond of her. I thought he was likely to
do something rather rash, like propose to her or something equally stupid. She
seemed to me the sort of girl who would egg him on, so I thought I’d put a stop
to it. And I would have done, as well, if that nosey old butler of Lady
Withers’ hadn’t interfered.’

‘It wasn’t due to jealousy then, you weren’t jealous that Miss Simpson
preferred Lord Sedgwick to yourself?’

‘Of course not, Inspector, what interest could I have in a common little
shop girl, and a mighty plain one at that!’

‘Well, I thought she might be exactly your type, my lord. I understand that
you have rather a thing for servant girls and women from a lower class than
yourself. In fact, I understand that you have built up quite a reputation for
yourself amongst the country houses.’

‘It is hardly my fault, Inspector,’ said Lord Sneddon, colouring visibly,
‘if women from a certain class have a tendency to throw themselves at me.
What’s a man to do, I ask you? Some of them are jolly pretty and good fun. I
just do what any hot bloodied man in my position would do, I –.’

‘… take advantage of them,’ said Deacon, finishing Sneddon’s sentence for
him, his eyes suddenly cold. ‘Oh, I don’t doubt for a moment, my lord, that you
exploit every opportunity for your own advantage. But you still haven’t
answered my original question. What hold did Lady Belvedere have over you that
you would do what you did for her? And I’m afraid that whatever you say I’m far
from convinced that you would have hesitated to use force against Miss Simpson,
a belief that both she and Lord Sedgwick share, I might add, which might
explain Lord Sedgwick’s subsequent actions towards you.’

Sneddon’s hand shot up to touch his injured face, and there was another
silence which neither man seemed inclined to break. Lord Sneddon sat glaring at
the inspector with obvious dislike. Deacon in turn returned his stare with as
impassive a look upon his face as he could muster, which was an impressive feat
as he realised that he thoroughly detested the man before him. The ticking of
the clock on the mantelpiece seemed suddenly audible and unnecessarily
intrusive in the quietness of the room. Even Sergeant Lane, half hidden from
view a few feet behind Sneddon, felt the oppressiveness of the silence in the
room and found himself hardly daring to breathe least all eyes be turned upon
him.

‘Come, my lord,’ the inspector said, eventually, ‘You can refuse to
answer my questions or give me a pack of lies, if you will, but it will only
serve to hinder our investigation temporarily. I can assure you that we will
discover the truth in the end. Why not save yourself and us a lot of time by
telling us now. The truth invariably comes out in the end; much better that you
tell us yourself now, in your own words.’

‘Very well, Inspector,’ said Lord Sneddon, sighing deeply, ‘I will,
although it has no bearing on Lady Belvedere’s murder, I assure you. She and I
were after the same thing, after all, that I should marry Lavinia. Indeed, it
appears that as soon as Cedric and I became friends, the countess recognised
the benefit that such an acquaintance might have on her daughter’s prospects
and began to scheme. She knew that I would be spoilt for choice when selecting
a bride and decided that the best way around this was to employ a private
detective to see if he could uncover anything unsavoury about me that she could
use to force my hand.’   

‘Lady Belvedere attempted to blackmail you?’

‘Blackmail is an ugly word, Inspector, and not one that I think the
countess would have used. I think she viewed it more as gentle persuasion. She
informed me that her private detective had uncovered one or two things which I
would not wish to have banded around and one thing in particular that I do not
wish to become public knowledge. I hope, Inspector, that if I disclose what it
is, I can rely on your discretion?’

‘That you have a tendency towards seducing servant girls?’

‘Alas, I fear that is already well known in certain circles, certainly if
this house is anything to go by. The butler here has put every hindrance in
place to ensure that I am quite unsuccessful in my quest while I remain at
Ashgrove.’ Lord Sneddon chuckled as if he found the whole thing amusing rather
than annoying but Deacon, watching him closely, was not deceived.

‘What the countess discovered, Inspector, is that my family is rather in
need of ready money. We have assets aplenty, but little immediate finances on
which to call on to grow or maintain them. To be frank, we have rising debts
and no way of satisfying them other than to commence the selling off of parts
of our estates. So what it really boils down to, Inspector, is that Lady
Belvedere knew full well that I was badly in need of a very rich wife.’

‘And Lady Lavinia would be that?’

‘Indeed, she would. Lady Belvedere assured me that I could expect a very
large dowry if I were to marry Lavinia. But she applied certain conditions. I
had to stop my womanising and undertake whatever measures I considered
necessary to discredit Miss Simpson in Cedric’s eyes. She did not say as much,
but her tone implied the steps that she anticipated that I would need to take.’

‘And did you find this disagreeable? I understand from one witness that
you returned from your interview with Lady Belvedere quite out of sorts.’

‘I did not find what was expected of me particularly disagreeable, as you
put it, Inspector, but what I did resent was being ordered around as if I were
employed to do the countess’s bidding.’      

 ‘I see. Can you tell me please what you were doing wandering around
downstairs last night, or in the very early hours of this morning, after
everyone else had gone to bed?’

‘I assume you have a witness, Inspector, so I won’t try and deny it. If
you must know, I went on the search for food.’

‘Not servant girls?’ enquired the inspector. ‘You didn’t by any chance
during your travels go into Sir William’s study?’

‘No, Inspector, I did not and I didn’t take Sir William’s shotgun either,
if that’s what you’re getting at.’

‘But you knew where Sir William kept his guns along with his ammunition?
You knew of the existence of the gun cabinet in the alcove behind the curtain?’

‘You must know full well by now, Inspector,’ said Lord Sneddon, beginning
to sound irritated, ‘that I do, as do most of the other guests here, I might
add. Sir William took us to his gun cabinet last night after dinner to show us
a pair of antique duelling pistols that he had recently
acquired.’     

‘You asked him where he kept his ammunition.’

‘Did I? I forget. If I did ask about it, then it was only for something
to say. If I am perfectly honest, I was frightfully bored and was trying to
make polite conversation to disguise the fact. As it happens, Sir William is
one of those fellows that if you start them talking about something they go on
and on about it; don’t know when to stop.’