03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (26 page)

‘I don’t
want this to end, Rose,’ said Cedric, at last. ‘Sitting here, just the two of
us, pretending that a murder hasn’t just occurred in the grounds, and that
Sedgwick is not crawling with policemen.’

‘Yes, it
would be nice, wouldn’t it, darling? If only we could just click our fingers
and have everyone else go away.’

‘I expect
we’ll have Manning or Torridge in here in a minute, asking what to do about
dinner.’ Cedric sighed. ‘I daresay the police will want to interview Jemima and
Lavinia before they call it a day. We’ll have to put dinner back by an hour at
least.’

‘What
about the servants, when will they have their dinner? They’ll be awfully hungry,
won’t they?’

‘They
usually have it while we’re having our cocktails before dinner. Unlike in some
houses where they’re made to wait until after all the dinner things are cleared
away and the family and guests are having their coffee.’

‘Goodness,
that would make their meal frightfully late, wouldn’t it?’

‘It
would. But some servants prefer it. They like to have their dinner when they’ve
finished for the night. You should hear Torridge and Manning. They have very
different views on the subject.’

‘Well, if
I were a servant, I don’t think I’d want to have to wait for my meal. I’d
probably help myself to a few things from the dishes before they were sent up!’

Rose
closed her eyes for a moment and thought of Madame Renard’s dress shop and the
long hours of work she endured there. It occurred to her that there was not so very
much difference between her lot and that of Cedric’s servants. Her station in
life was nearer to theirs than to his.   

‘I was
going to suggest to everyone that we didn’t bother dressing for dinner tonight,’
Cedric was saying. ‘It’s likely to be a very short, sombre affair this evening,
don’t you think?’

‘I do. I
think everyone will want to go to bed early. It’s been such an awful, tiring
day. I suppose it’s the shock. I don’t think anyone will have much of an appetite
for conversation.’ A thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘I say, Cedric, is
Lavinia still in her boudoir?’

‘Yes, she
is. She even took her tea there by herself. Really, one would think she could
make more of an effort. She could try and comfort Jemima for a start.’

‘Jemima
doesn’t want comforting. She wants to be left alone by herself. Look at the way
she spurned poor Felix’s attempts today, and they were as close as anything
yesterday.’ Rose sighed. ‘I think Lavinia’s rather annoyed with the inspector
for not interviewing her first.’

‘Just
like Lavinia. Poor old Inspector Bramwell. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes
when he finally does interview her. By the way, I’ve asked Mrs Farrier to
prepare rooms for Inspector Bramwell and Sergeant Lane. I thought it would be
rather a good idea to keep some police presence here overnight, don’t you? God
forbid there’ll be another murder!’

‘Yes. I
think that’s a very good idea,’ said Rose, rather dreamily, her head still on
Cedric’s shoulder. ‘As it happens, I’d rather like to speak to your
housekeeper. I have one or two questions to ask her.’

‘Would
you like me to send for her now?’ asked Cedric rather reluctantly.

‘No,’
said Rose, placing her head more firmly on his shoulder. ‘I want to stay like
this for as long as possible.’

‘So do I.
But I say, darling. Do you believe that story of Vera’s? It sounds a bit far-fetched
all that note business doesn’t it? And putting poor old Harrison’s initials at
the bottom. That really was a bit much.’

‘I don’t
think the police believed Vera at first. They thought it was a rather desperate
bid on her part to protect Theo. But, for what it’s worth, I believe her.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, it
explains one or two things with regard to the way she behaved this morning.’

‘Such
as?’

‘Vera
didn’t join in the search,’ said Rose. ‘I caught her smiling when she thought
Emmeline hadn’t come down to breakfast because she was unwell. But, when she
discovered Emmeline was missing, Vera told Lavinia that she had a headache, or
some such thing. The truth I think was that she was afraid Emmeline would tell
everyone what she had done when they found her, and she didn’t want to be there
when that happened. Can you imagine how Theo would have reacted?’

‘Yes, I
can.’

‘That’s
not all. Do you remember that you were afraid that Emmeline might have come to
harm because of the cold.’

‘Yes, I
was.’

‘I think
the same thought suddenly occurred to Vera, particularly when she saw the
blankets and flasks of coffee and brandy we were taking with us on the search. She
suddenly realised how irresponsible she’d been to leave Emmeline in the maze. I
happened to look up at the house just before we set off. I caught sight of Vera
by the window and I remember thinking at the time how worried she looked.’

‘But
wouldn’t she have looked just as worried if, God forbid, she had actually murdered
Emmeline in the maze?’ asked Cedric.

‘Yes, of
course. But there’s more. You’ll remember that, when I came back to the house
with Lavinia, Vera came tearing out of the house and asked me what had
happened. When I told her Emmeline was dead she fainted, but not before she
said something along the lines of: “No, she can’t be dead. What have I done? I
never meant to …”’

 ‘Oh, I
say! Did she really?’

‘Yes. Don’t
you see what that means?’

‘I can’t
say that I do. It seems to me more like a confession. That she had killed
Emmeline after all.’

‘Vera
thought Emmeline had died from the cold. From exposure or hypothermia or some
such thing.  Don’t you see? She thought she was to blame for the girl’s death.
Not because she had actually killed her, but because she had left her in the
maze.’

‘And she
was responsible for Emmeline’s death in a way, wasn’t she? If it hadn’t been
for her actions, Emmeline would never have gone to the maze in the first place.
She’d have stayed safely tucked up in bed instead.’

‘But Vera
didn’t wield the fatal blow,’ said Rose. ‘At the first opportunity, she asked
me if it was true what the servants were saying. Was it true that Emmeline had
died from having her head bashed in? That was the eloquent way she put it. I remember
being rather shocked. But she wanted reassurance that Emmeline had not died
from the cold. And when I told her that she hadn’t, she looked relieved.’   

‘So who
did kill Emmeline? Are we any nearer to finding out?’

‘I think
I may be able to narrow the suspects down a bit further. I would like to have a
word with your housekeeper now, if I may?’

‘Your
wish is my command, my lady. I tell you what, I’ll go and get the woman myself
rather than ring for her. It’ll give me an excuse to find out how the servants
are taking all this. Manning and Torridge won’t tell me the truth. They’ll just
assure me that the servants are coping well if I ask them.’

Cedric
returned a few minutes later with the housekeeper in tow. Mrs Farrier was a
thin, pale woman, dressed all in black, relieved only by white lace cuffs and
collar, which accentuated her pallor. Rose thought her dress particularly fitting
for a house in mourning, although she assumed it was the woman’s usual work attire.

‘I hope
you don’t mind my asking to see you, Mrs Farrier?’ said Rose. ‘I know you’re
very busy, particularly in light of what’s happened. I daresay some of the
young maids are very upset?’

‘We all
are, miss. Nothing like this has ever happened at Sedgewick before. Not in my
lifetime at least.’

‘Quite
so,’ Rose said quickly. ‘Now, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind answering a
question for me. I daresay you’ll think my question rather a strange one.’

‘I’ll do
what I can, miss.’

‘Would
you mind telling me who has which bedroom upstairs … the layout I mean,’ said
Rose, seeing the look of astonishment on the housekeeper’s face. ‘For instance,
my room is next to Lady Lavinia’s. And her room and mine are opposite to Miss
Montacute’s and Miss Wentmore’s. And their two rooms are of course next to one
another. Miss Brewster’s room is a little further down the corridor. What about
the men’s corridor? How are the rooms positioned there?’

‘Well … let
me see. Dr Harrison’s and Count Fernand’s rooms are next to one another on one
side of the corridor, and opposite them are Lord Belvedere’s and Mr
Thistlewaite’s.’

‘Which
rooms are on the corresponding side of the house to Miss Montacute’s and Miss
Wentmore’s rooms?’     

‘That
would be Dr Harrison’s and Count Fernand’s.’

‘Thank
you, Mrs Farrier. That’s all I needed to know. You have been most helpful.’

‘Are
you going to tell me what that was all about?’ asked Cedric as they made their
way back to the drawing room. ‘I’m not sure that my housekeeper thought your
reasons for wondering which gentleman slept in which room were entirely
honourable. If you wanted to know which my room was, you only had to ask me,
you know!’

Rose giggled,
and then immediately became serious again. She had caught sight of Jemima
through the open door, pale and unhappy, and alone. The girl had looked up startled
at the sound of laughter.

Rose
lowered her voice and said: ‘You know very well, darling, that my reasons for asking
such things were related to my investigations. I shall tell you about it all in
good time once I’ve been able to think what it all means. I will tell you this,
though. Something occurred to me when the policemen were interviewing Vera. I
think the number of possible suspects has been narrowed down. I wonder if the
same idea has occurred to the police.’

‘I didn’t
have time to ask you before,’ said Inspector Bramwell. ‘Did you by any chance
find anything of interest in Miss Montacute’s room or Miss Wentmore’s?’

‘Nothing
I’m afraid, sir,’ admitted Sergeant Lane. ‘What would you like to do now? We
still have to interview Lady Lavinia yet.’

‘You’re
right, Sergeant. Time’s marching on. That lot will be wanting to dress for
dinner any moment now. I’m surprised that butler fellow hasn’t tried to chivvy
us along.’ He stared at the fire. ‘I think it’s about time we had a word with
Miss Wentmore, don’t you? Let’s see if we can find out for ourselves if she is
who she claims to be. Let’s discover whether your Miss Simpson’s theory about Jemima
Wentmore and the deceased is correct.’

Jemima Wentmore
appeared in front of Rose as soon as Cedric had left her side to go and see how
Theo Harrison was bearing up.

‘Miss
Simpson … Rose, I wondered if I might have a word with you?’

‘Yes, of
course Jemima, how may I help you?’

‘Am I
correct in thinking that you accompanied Miss Brewster when she was being
interviewed by the policemen?’

‘Yes, I
went with her.’

‘Didn’t
they mind, the policemen I mean?’

‘I think Inspector
Bramwell minded very much. But Vera refused to be interviewed unless I was with
her. So I suppose he had no choice but to accept it.’

‘Did Vera
say anything important? Did she say anything about Emmeline’s death?’

‘I’m
afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss Vera’s interview,’ Rose answered rather
primly. ‘If you want to know what she said, I suggest you ask her.’

‘Please …
don’t be like that.’

Jemima
clung on to her sleeve, and it occurred to Rose that her sleeve had been held
on to rather too many times that day already. She wondered how best to
disentangle herself from Emmeline’s companion.

‘Please,’
said Jemima. ‘I don’t mean to sound inquisitive. I was just wondering whether
the police were any nearer finding Emmeline’s murderer, that’s all. It’s not
that surprising, is it? And … there is something else I wanted to ask you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Will you
come in with me when I’m interviewed?’

‘Me? Are
you sure you wouldn’t prefer Felix to go in with you?’

‘No … I …
Well, you’re used to this sort of thing, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, all
right. I will if you’d like me to.’

‘Thank
you. Thank you so much. You don’t know how grateful I am to you,’ Jemima said,
her lip trembling.

The door
opened and Sergeant Lane walked into the room.

‘Miss
Wentmore. The inspector would like to interview you now if you’d just come this
way.’

‘Miss
Simpson! What are you doing here?’

This
time, Rose noticed, the inspector made little pretence at being polite.

‘I should
like Miss Simpson to stay with me while I’m being interviewed, Inspector,’
answered Jemima nervously. ‘I believe you allowed her to be present during your
interview with Miss Brewster?’

The inspector
snorted and said: ‘It would appear, Miss Simpson, that you are fulfilling the
role of ladies’ chaperone. Stay if you must, but this time please do not try to
interrupt the proceedings.’

Sergeant
Lane drew up the same chair as before, and Rose sat down beside Jemima, very
conscious that her presence was being tolerated by the inspector under
sufferance.

‘I
realise that Miss Montacute’s death must have been a great shock to you, Miss Wentmore.
You have my sympathies.’

Jemima made
no acknowledgement other than to nod slightly and look miserably down at her
hands, which were clasped tightly together in her lap.

‘For our
records I’d like you to give me your full name, miss, if you please.’

‘Jemima Mary
Wentmore.’

‘Mary,
eh? Taken a note of that, Sergeant?’

‘Yes,
sir,’ replied Sergeant Lane from his corner.

A puzzled
look appeared on Jemima’s face as she looked from one policeman to the other.
She swallowed hard, and Rose thought that she looked even more apprehensive
than before. 

‘Suppose
you tell us how long you’ve been Miss Montacute’s companion?’

‘Almost
two years, I think … Yes, it would have been two years in March.’

‘I
understand that you are a distant relative of the Montacutes. Now, just so that
I can get it clear in my mind, Mr Montacute employed you as a companion to his
daughter, am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you
were paid for your services? You didn’t reside in the Montacute establishment
on account of your being a member of the family, so to speak?’        

‘Mr
Montacute gave me a very generous allowance,’ Jemima said, her cheeks going
crimson.

‘So you
were paid for your services as companion to Miss Montacute?’ persisted Inspector
Bramwell.

‘I
suppose I was. I never really thought of it like that.’

‘Indeed!
You surprise me, Miss Wentmore. This allowance you were given. You say it was
generous and yet you dress, if you will forgive me for saying, a little
dowdily, a little shabbily even. If I didn’t know better, I would have put you
down as being a lady’s maid. Don’t you like fine clothes? Or doesn’t your
allowance stretch that far?’

‘Yes … no
… yes … I don’t know.’

‘You
sound rather flustered, if you don’t mind my saying, Miss Wentmore. I would
have thought my question was a perfectly simple one to answer. Tell me. Did you
like Miss Montacute? I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but, from what I’ve
heard, she sounded like rather a selfish and vain young lady.’

‘She
wasn’t like that at all, Inspector.’

For the
first time Jemima sounded indignant. Her eyes, Rose noticed, were flashing with
something akin to anger.

‘No?
Young Mr Thistlewaite was very vexed at the way Miss Montacute treated you.
Said she treated you no better than a servant.’

‘He
doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘Doesn’t
he? I have it on good authority that you and he were rather fond of each other.
You met in Florence, I understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you
are fond of him?’

‘I was …
Now I’m not so certain.’

‘Oh? And
why is that, pray?’ The inspector looked interested.

‘I’m not interested
in anything anymore. Not now that Emmeline’s dead.  It’s all I can think about …
her death. It’s all so awful. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand – ’

‘That’s
quite natural, I would imagine,’ said the inspector, a touch of sympathy in his
voice. ‘You were very close, I assume?’

‘We were
like sisters.’

‘Sisters,
huh? Well that must have been nice. Company for each other. You almost lived
the life of a recluse in Scotland, I understand.’

‘What utter
nonsense! Of course we didn’t. Mr Montacute was always throwing parties and
balls.’

‘But you
didn’t leave the house in the Highlands much?’

‘We
weren’t kept prisoners, if that’s what you’re implying. We were free to come
and go as we wished.’

‘As long
as you were accompanied by Mr Montacute or some of his servants?’

‘Mr
Montacute was very protective of Emmeline, and with good reason. He was afraid
another kidnap attempt would be made. And he was right to be frightened, wasn’t
he?’

‘Was he?
Miss Montacute was murdered, not kidnapped. Tell me, Miss Wentmore, whose idea
was it that you and Miss Montacute should go to the Continent alone?’

‘Emmeline’s.’

‘Are you
certain about that? Mr Montacute’s secretary thought it was your idea.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yes. He
seemed very certain, so he did. Now what’s the name of the fellow? … Sugden, is
it?’

‘Stapleton,
Inspector,’ said Jemima.

‘Ah,
that’s right, so it is. Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. Stapleton’s convinced
it was your idea. What do you say to that?’

‘Yes ... I
remember now. Of course. How stupid of me. He is quite right. It was my idea to
go to the Continent. But it was Emmeline’s idea to come here to Sedgwick. Silly
of me. I was thinking of Sedgwick not the Continent.’

‘Confused
again, Miss Wentmore? Dear me!’

‘I’ve
never been involved in a murder investigation before, Inspector. I’m afraid
you’re making me feel rather nervous.’

‘Am I?
Oh, dear. Really, Miss Wentmore, there is no reason for you to be nervous of me
unless you committed the deed in question.’

‘The deed
in question?’

‘Killed
Miss Montacute.’

‘Oh!’
Jemima clasped her hand to her mouth and her eyes went very wide.

‘Surely
you don’t think I did it? I loved Emmeline. Why should I wish her dead?’

‘Why
indeed, Miss Wentmore? Unfortunately for you, I can think of a number of
reasons. Shall I go through them one by one? Get them clear in my mind, so to
speak.’ The inspector did not wait for a response. ‘Do you remember poor Mr
Thistlewaite for whom you no longer appear to hold any affection? Well, that
young man went out of his way to accuse everyone else but you of the murder. Yet
you were overheard having a conversation with him in the gardens yesterday, suggesting
that you might be able to get hold of a considerable amount of money.’

‘Was I?
Overheard saying that, I mean?’

‘You
were. Tell me, Miss Wentmore, do you benefit under the terms of Miss
Montacute’s will?’

‘Yes.’

‘Considerably?’

‘Very
considerably. But I didn’t murder my friend, I promise you. And it’s not what
you think, what I said about the money.’

‘What did
you mean by it then?’

Jemima
stared miserably at the floor and declined to give an answer.

‘Very
well. If you will not tell us, we can only think the worst. Unfortunately for
you, Miss Wentmore, that is not all. We happen to know, for instance, that you
stole Miss Montacute’s diamond necklace.’

‘What did
you say, Inspector?’ Rose said. It was the first time she had spoken since
entering the study.

‘Miss
Simpson. I almost forgot you were here, you were keeping so quiet. What a pity
you have gone and spoilt it. I think I have already told you not to interrupt.’

‘But, Inspector
–
’

‘I don’t
know what you’re talking about, Inspector,’ Jemima said, a note of panic
evident in her voice. ‘I didn’t steal Emmeline’s diamonds.’

‘Didn’t
you? And yet Miss Montacute’s jewel box was found hidden on the landing with
its lock broken.’

‘I don’t
see why you think that has anything to do with me. I had no need to break the
lock. You see, I have the key.’

Jemima
produced from her handbag a small brass key which she handed to the inspector.
He in turn took out of a drawer in the desk a finely polished mahogany
jewellery box with stepped detail to the lid. The wood of the box was smooth
except for around the lock. Here the wood was splintered and raw, showing signs
of where the lock had been forced. Inspector Bramwell proceeded to open the box
to reveal a maroon-coloured, velvet lining.    
      

‘Is this
Miss Montacute’s jewel box?’

‘Yes.’

The Inspector
took out the top tray and put his hand in the box, from where he retrieved a
necklace consisting of yellow diamonds, mounted in platinum and rose gold.

‘You
found that necklace in the jewellery box even though the lock was broken?’
asked Rose in surprise. ‘So whoever broke the lock didn’t take the diamonds. I
wonder why not.’

‘We have
wondered that ourselves, Miss Simpson. This is the very necklace that I showed
you earlier, if you recall. The necklace you identified to us as the one Miss
Montacute was wearing the evening before last.’