01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (29 page)

‘Well put, Sergeant. I don’t think I have anything further to add, except
that we do know the two girls had some sort of silly falling out about it all
and Lady Lavinia was overly keen to accuse poor Miss Simpson of her mother’s
murder. I’m guessing that after this has all been resolved those two young
women won’t be having anything to do with one another.’

‘Unless Miss Simpson marries her brother, of course.’

‘There is that, although it’s possible that either the sister or brother
are our murderer.’

‘That just leaves, Mrs Torrington, sir. And we know she hated Lady
Belvedere because of some wrong that she had done her in the past. And she
won’t tell us what it was. I think my money’s on her. She seems pretty highly
strung if you ask me.’

‘She is that,’ agreed Deacon, thinking, ‘but whether it’s the result of
guilt, I don’t know. We haven’t really got a very good motive for her wishing
Miss Simpson dead, have we? No, if she pulled the trigger, I think it was
definitely the countess that she was aiming at and we may never know what she
had against her, she’s the sort of woman who’d take her secrets to her grave.’

‘What do you want to do now, sir?’

‘I think we should retire from here for the day, Sergeant, and go back to
the station to think things over away from here. When we come back in the
morning, I want to have another look at that lock to the gun cabinet and
perhaps do a little experiment. There’ll be pressure on us to solve this case
as soon as possible, Lane, what with a member of the aristocracy being the
victim and other members being murder suspects. Let’s hope that it takes a day
or two for the newspapers to get wind of it, they’ll have a field day.’

‘Yes, sir. There’s just one thing. I’m rather concerned about Miss
Simpson,’ said Lane, looking anxious. ‘If she was the intended victim might she
not still be in danger. What’s to stop someone from taking a pop at her
tonight?’

‘The same thought crossed my mind earlier, Sergeant,’ grinned Deacon.
‘You needn’t worry your head about it, man. I’ve arranged with Sir William for
one of the constables to keep guard. He’ll be based in one of the unoccupied
rooms on the first floor, next to Miss Simpson’s. As far as everyone is
concerned, he’s staying here in case anyone remembers anything more about the
murder or are concerned about there being a murderer on the loose. In actual
fact, after everyone’s gone to bed he’ll be keeping guard in the corridor
outside Miss Simpson’s room to ensure that she doesn’t come to any harm.

There had been talk, or more accurately, mutterings of not having dinner
in the dining room that evening, but that instead the household and guests eat
in ones or twos in their own rooms as they saw fit, with those not feeling up
to food abstaining altogether. While Rose could appreciate that few of those
present might feel comfortable at the idea of dining with an unknown murderer,
she was relieved when Sir William insisted that they all dine together in the
normal fashion, for it was likely to have meant otherwise that she would have
been obliged to eat alone.  

Dinner, not surprisingly, ended up being a very sombre occasion. No-one
bothered much with small talk or pleasantries, both of which seemed superficial
and wanting given the circumstances. The tension in the air was unbearable and
more than one glass was dropped, with either the glass smashing or the contents
being spilt over the snow white table cloth. On one occasion it had been red
wine, and Rose thought that she was probably not the only one present to
associate it with the blood that had been spilt earlier that day.

Lavinia had retired to her room alone as soon as dinner was finished,
although her presence at table had seemed redundant for she had barely touched
a morsel of food or uttered a word, instead absentmindedly chasing a carrot or
bean around her plate with her fork. Mrs Palmer had purposefully prepared a
very light and almost frugal meal but, even so, most of the dishes had been
returned to the kitchen only partially eaten and, in some cases,
untouched.  

Rose made her way slowly up the two staircases, only vaguely aware of the
presence of the constable who had stationed himself to one side of her door, a
chair propped against the wall indicating that for him, at least, it would be a
long night. She knew that she ought to go to bed and try to get some sleep, for
she was sure that the following day was to prove just as draining as this one
had been, but she was reluctant to do so, sure that she was still suffering
from the shock of it all which would deny her sleep.

She was also very aware that she had not spoken a single word to Lavinia
since the tragedy, and that, although any overtures on her part were likely to
be turned down, as her friend she must at least try. She tried to pretend that
the constable was not there to witness her humiliation as Lavinia sent her away
but, raising her hand to tap lightly on her friend’s door, she was aware of the
sound of weeping, although a more accurate description might be wailing, for it
sounded as if Lavinia was pouring out her very heart. At Rose’s knock the
crying stopped abruptly to be replaced by silence and it seemed to Rose that
the whole world seemed to hold its breath, so quiet was the house. Rose felt
that she waited for minutes for something to happen, although it was actually
probably only a few seconds. She was just about to turn away and go to her room
when the door was flung open and Lavinia beckoned her inside. The constable
half rose from his seat as if he were minded to prevent her from entering the
room, but a look from Rose made him sit back down again in his seat looking
awkward, as if he feared that he would receive the wrath of his superiors if
anything untoward were to happen to her in the room. Rose went in and shut the
door behind her.

‘Is he there to protect you from us in case you remember something?’
asked Lavinia, sounding disinterested in her own question. She looked awful,
Rose thought, in so much as her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her
skin was blotchy, but she still managed somehow to look beautiful whereas in
similar circumstances another woman would have looked quite
plain.     

‘It must have been awful for you,’ Lavinia continued, in a dull voice
that seemed to lack all emotion. ‘I realise that now, although I didn’t see it
before I must confess. I saw you as responsible for my mother going on the
walk. I thought that if you hadn’t been here, then she wouldn’t have been –.’

‘Lavinia, I’m so –.’

‘I’m not sad she’s dead, you know. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? A daughter
saying that about her mother, but there you are, it’s true and I don’t feel I
have the strength to try and pretend something I don’t feel, just for
appearance’s sake.’

‘But just now you were crying as if your heart was fit to break,’ Rose
said, appalled by her friend’s words. ‘You’re just in shock, you’ll feel
something soon once the numbness has worn off.’

‘I don’t think so, not for my mother. But you’re wrong, I don’t feel
numb, as you put it, I feel everything very much.’

‘Lavinia, I don’t –.’

‘Understand? Yes, I see that. It’s not for my mother that I’m weeping,
Rose, it’s for my brother.’

‘Cedric?’ A feeling of dread came over Rose. She felt an overwhelming
urge to turn and run from the room before Lavinia could say anything more to
confirm her worst fears.

‘He did it, Rose, Cedric killed our mother and the police will find out
and then he’ll hang.’ Her voice had started to rise.

‘Shh,’ Rose grabbed her arm and dragged the girl to her bed where they
both sat down, Rose turning to glance at the closed door, very aware of the
constable’s presence a few feet away. For all she knew, he had left his chair
and moved to the door to try and overhear their conversation, eager to assure
himself that she was not being attacked. ‘For goodness sake, speak quietly,
have you forgotten that there’s a policeman the other side of the door? Do you
want to be the one to send Cedric to the gallows?’ She did not wait for an
answer. Instead, even though a part of her desperately did not want to know,
she felt compelled to press Lavinia for why she believed something so awful to
be true. ‘Tell me, Lavinia, what makes you think your brother is guilty of your
mother’s death?’

‘I overheard them talking this morning, Cedric and Hugh. They were in one
of the rooms on this corridor, the room the other side of yours. I pretended I
had a headache this morning so that I didn’t have to go down to breakfast,
because I didn’t want to see you, not after our argument yesterday.’ Lavinia
cast Rose a look, which was far from kind. ‘I was still angry with you, you
see, so I decided to stay in my room. Anyway, I suddenly became aware that two
people were shouting at each other in one of the rooms. You can imagine my
surprise as only you and I have rooms on this floor. Anyway of course I was curious,
so I crept along the landing and listened outside the door. I recognised
Cedric’s and Hugh’s voices at once and, although I found it difficult to hear
clearly what they were saying, I caught the odd word here and there, enough
anyway to grasp that my mother had put Hugh up to enticing you away from
Cedric. Cedric, as you can imagine, was incredibly angry and then, when Hugh
went on to tell him that at that very moment Mother was out walking with you
just so she had the opportunity to berate you and persuade you to leave
Ashgrove, Cedric tore open the door and bounded down the stairs two at a time
looking as if nothing would stop him. I had little chance to hide before being
caught eavesdropping, but he was so set on his mission I don’t think he even
saw me.’

Even though Rose had felt her heart sinking at each word uttered by her
friend, she tried not to think the worse.

‘That doesn’t mean that he killed your mother,’ she argued, clutching at
straws. ‘For all we know he just shut himself up in his room.’

‘You know as well as I do, Rose, that he did no such thing,’ retorted
Lavinia. ‘Do you really think he is the sort of young man who would just have
stood aside and let my mother lay in to you without coming to your defence? You
know he isn’t.’

‘No,’ agreed Rose, giving up any pretence of doubt. Cedric was not that
type of man. If he had been she never would have fallen in love with him the
way she had. And hadn’t he told her that he would do whatever it took to ensure
that they were together. Hadn’t he identified his mother as an obstacle to be
overcome? And if she were honest with herself, hadn’t she known all along that
he was guilty? She remembered leaning over Lady Belvedere’s body to try and
stem the bleeding and check for signs of life. She remembered the words that
had sprung from her own lips unbidden. ‘It’s all my fault’. In fact hadn’t she
said it again and again even when the man and boy had found her, on and on so
that she was even mumbling words to that effect in the servants’ hall? She had known
then that Cedric was guilty and had felt responsible, that his love for her had
driven him to commit the most horrific of acts. She thought back to their
snatched conversation that afternoon before tea, when he had reassured her of
his feelings towards her, when she had realised with utter joy that, despite
everything, he still wanted her. Her heart leapt now as she remembered his very
words and then, just as quickly, it sank and she was engulfed with a sense of
dread. He had been there. All at once she knew without a shadow of a doubt that
he had been there. He had overheard their conversation, hers and Lady
Belvedere’s. He had been there in the woods while they had snarled and spat at
each other, he had been
there
!

Rose awoke the next morning, the feeling of dread still firmly lodged in
her stomach. She was prepared to swear that she had not slept above a few
minutes all night, her eyelids felt sore and heavy and her head throbbed. She
lay back on the bedclothes feeling sick and absolutely wretched. But she had no
doubt of her course of action. As a law-abiding citizen she should inform the
police of what she knew to be true. As soon as Inspector Deacon and his
sergeant arrived to resume their investigation, she should demand to see them
and tell them everything. But this was not the course of action that she had
chosen to take and Lavinia, she realised, had banked on that. She could no more
hand Cedric over to the police to be sent to the gallows than she could stop
breathing. Lavinia held her responsible for Cedric’s actions as she did
herself. He had killed Lady Belvedere in a spur of the moment, desperate act,
goaded into it by his erstwhile friend. It had been a half crazed, frenzied
Cedric that had pulled the trigger, not the kind and gentle man she knew. But
ultimately, although she may hold Lord Sneddon to account, she must face the
fact that her very presence had been the driving force. Had she not been there
that weekend and met Cedric, then the countess would be alive now, free to
bully and intimidate her family it was true, but alive nevertheless. Rose had
no alternative; she must stand by Cedric and do everything in her power to
protect him because surely morally she was as guilty as he was, or at least she
felt as if she were.

She must focus her attentions on diverting suspicion away from him. But,
and this was a very big but, however could she feel for him as she had done
before? If he requested her hand in marriage, then she was duty bound to give
it because of what he had done to be with her, but could she really love him as
she had done, knowing what he was capable of, knowing him to be what he was, a
murderer? However, could she in all conscience introduce him to her own mother
as her future son-in-law? Her whole life going forward would be based on
secrecy and deceit, afraid always that the truth would come out. They would
never be able to relax for one moment. And should she tell him what she knew?
Should she tell him that she knew what he had done to be with her? Lavinia was
anxious that she did not. Lavinia wanted to pretend that he was not the
culprit, but if she were to adopt such a stance, would it only serve to drive a
wedge between her and Cedric? Or was it better that he never knew that she knew
the truth? Otherwise, when he happened to catch her looking at him might he not
always be left wondering whether she was thinking back to the woodlands and the
gunshot that had changed their lives.     

There was no use thinking about it now, she knew, although it was so
difficult to stop herself from doing so. She would have a lifetime to do
nothing but think about it, but whatever happened she would have to see it
through. She owed that much to Cedric. The enormity of the task that lay ahead
of her suddenly struck her and she buried her head in her pillow and
sobbed.  

‘Right,’ said Deacon, as the two policemen let themselves into Sir
William’s study and made for the alcove, ‘let’s have another look at this gun
cabinet, the forced lock in particular.’ He pulled back the heavy velvet
curtain and both policemen studied the broken lock carefully.

‘It hasn’t been picked, sir, if that’s what you were thinking,’ said Lane
after careful examination, ‘it’s definitely been smashed. Looks as if it took
quite a lot of attempts too, looking at all these marks here on the metal.’

‘It was and it wasn’t what I was thinking,’ replied the inspector,
somewhat mysteriously. ‘The position of the lock, Lane, what strikes you about
it?’

‘Well, there being a pane of glass in the door, rather than it being
solid wood, I reckon it would have been quite hard for the murderer to break
the lock without breaking the glass,’ said the sergeant, standing back so as to
be able to appraise the gun cabinet as a whole, ‘but he obviously managed it all
right, didn’t he, sir, because the glass is intact, not even a scratch.’

‘My thoughts exactly, Lane,’ concurred the inspector. ‘Well, I think that
answers my question. Let’s get back to the library and go over everything
again. Before we do that, though, I think we’ll have Miss Simpson in to see if
she’s remembered anything else about the shooting that may help us to identify
the murderer.’

‘Take a seat, Miss Simpson. How are you feeling today?’ Deacon looked at
her kindly. It occurred to him that she appeared more agitated this morning
than she had the previous day, which interested him.

Rose sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. It had not occurred
to her that the police might want to interview her again, and being summoned to
appear before the inspector this morning had definitely thrown her. It was all
very well to decide not to tell the police about Cedric and keep out of their
way, but quite another thing to sit before them and lie. And what was worse,
the inspector seemed to know that she was on edge. The way he looked at her so
intently, had he guessed that she was hiding something?

‘Miss Simpson, Rose, if I may say you look decidedly unhappy to be here.
Do you find the presence of myself and my sergeant here so abhorrent?’

‘No, of course not.’ She glanced up from looking at her hands. There was
something of a twinkle in his eye, she thought, as if he was trying to put her
at her ease. She hadn’t noticed yesterday how attractive he was. If it hadn’t
been for Cedric, she would have noticed, she knew. But from the very moment she
had first set eyes on Cedric, she had known that she would never be able to
think of any other man. Cedric, Cedric, Cedric, oh Cedric ... She could not
stop herself, even though she knew it was the very worst thing to do because it
would confirm to them that something was most definitely wrong, but she
couldn’t help it, just saying his name to herself made her think of the awful
deed he had done to be with her, how much she owed him and how much danger he
was now in and that, coupled with her lack of sleep which was beginning to make
her feel quite sick with tiredness, suddenly made her burst into tears. Once
she had started she sobbed uncontrollably. She covered her face with her hands
and was only vaguely aware that both inspector and sergeant had shot up out of
their chairs in alarm, the inspector hastily passing her a handkerchief on
which to dry her
eyes.          

‘I ...I’m ... sorry,’ she stuttered between sobs. ‘I think everything has
suddenly got a bit too much for me, it’s the shock and everything. I’m just
being silly –.’

‘Do you know something, Miss Simpson? Something that you haven’t told us
about yet? Perhaps you’ve suddenly remembered something that you’d forgotten
about yesterday? It happens like that, you know, the sergeant here and I often
find that, don’t we, Lane?’ he indicated his colleague, who nodded. ‘That’s why
we wanted to see you this morning, in case you had remembered something else.’

Rose said nothing. She felt cornered and did not know what to do.

‘I’m guessing by your silence that you have found out something about
someone you care about that could implicate them in Lady Belvedere’s death, am
I right?’

Still Rose said nothing. If she had had more sleep, felt more refreshed, then
perhaps she could have thought of what to say or do, but as it was she could
think of nothing to allay their suspicions. They were going to guess, were on
the very verge of guessing, she knew, and there was absolutely nothing that she
could do about it.

‘I’m thinking it concerns Lady Lavinia or Lord Sedgwick,’ continued
Deacon, looking at her closely. He noticed that she clenched her hands together
when he mentioned Cedric’s name.

‘You’ve found out something about Lord Sedgwick which implicates him in
his mother’s death, Rose.’ She noticed that he said it as a statement rather
than as a question. ‘I know you don’t want to tell me what it is, that you’ve
got feelings for Lord Sedgwick, but I implore you to let us know what it is
you’ve discovered, for your sake as much as for justice’s. You’ll find that you
won’t be able to get on with your life until you do. It will eat away at you
and you will always wonder if you did the right thing. Lady Belvedere was
brutally killed in cold blood. If you think you know something that will help
us catch the murderer and bring him to justice, then now is the time to tell us
what it is.’

Silence filled the room. Once again the ticking of the clock was clearly
audible. But even as she sat there in the quietness, Rose knew that ultimately
she would break. She could not keep it to herself any longer. Already the
knowledge was eating away at her. She had thought that she would do whatever it
took to protect Cedric, but she realised now that she could not keep the truth
to herself. The inspector was right, justice must be done, she was only sad
that she must do it. She realised now with a great sinking feeling that a man
like Deacon would never give up. He would never close the investigation until
he had arrested someone for the murder. She could perhaps manage to keep silent
today, but there would be other days. They would hound her, these policemen,
she felt sure. They would interview her every day until she broke down and
divulged what she knew.

’He was there,’ she said eventually, so quietly that both men had to lean
forward in their chairs to hear what she said, ‘Cedric was in the woods, he
heard my conversation with his mother, or at least a part of it.’

‘How do you know?’ demanded Deacon. ‘Did he say as much to you?’

‘He didn’t need to. He gave himself away, although he didn’t realise it,
and neither did I at the time.’

‘How so?’

‘He referred to my being Sir William’s and Lady Withers’ invited guest,
and not the countess.’

‘Yes?’ The inspector sounded disappointed, even to Rose’s ears.

‘I said as much to Lady Belvedere in the woods. But that’s not all.’

 ‘What else, Miss Simpson?’

‘Cedric … Lord Sedgwick said that he could not tell me how much he
admired me for standing up to his mother,’ Rose looked up at their uncomprehending
faces. How could they not see the significance of her words?

‘Oh, don’t you see?’ she felt herself becoming angry. They had forced her
to divulge what she knew and now they were forcing her to interpret it for
them. How could they be so dense? ‘Nobody knew that I stood up to the countess.
I told no-one except perhaps you, I can’t exactly remember, but I definitely
didn’t tell anyone else, I know I didn’t. Cedric could only have known that I
did stand up to his mother if he’d been there to overhear our conversation. He
was there a few moments before Lady Belvedere was killed, he was
there
!’