Murder at Mullings--A 1930s country house murder mystery (19 page)

‘Very amateurish,' he confessed.

‘But what fun!' Hers was a richly deep voice. ‘Do you attend the theatre much?'

‘Haven't done in years. My wife's severe rheumatism made travelling difficult for her, and since her death a year ago I haven't had the inclination.'

Regina not only commiserated, but encouraged him to speak of his loss, expressing understanding, having been widowed herself.

‘That, however, was a great many years ago. The grief never goes away, but one adjusts … eventually. For you the pain must still be a constant ache.' Her voice soothed, invited, while her hands lay restfully on her lap.

It was so much easier to talk about it with a stranger. He hadn't realized how much he had needed to talk about Lillian without burdening those who also mourned her loss. Prior to parting they were on Christian name terms.

‘At our ages there is no reason to be formal,' Regina said, her eyebrow arched.

‘I agree.' He smiled.

From that day on Lord Stodmarsh had spent much of his time in Weymouth with Regina, sharing a table during meals and doing some leisurely sightseeing. She was not a strong walker, and without his cane, neither was he these days. The hotel recommended a man willing to drive them where they wished to go. On Regina's discovering that a local theatre was performing
As You Like It
, they attended a matinee performance and then decided on a day trip to London to see Bernard Shaw's
Pygmalion.

It wasn't until the second week of their acquaintance that Regina Stapleton gave him an account of her personal history. She had previously told him only that she had returned to Cragstone, her family's ancestral home in Northumbria, following her widowhood. He had wondered at what had seemed a studied reticence, but that was now explained. They were again seated in the conservatory; none of the other chairs was occupied. Her story unfolded in her forthright way once started. Having been left virtually penniless by a profligate husband – dead at thirty from influenza – and with a baby daughter to support, she had been grateful for her brother and sister-in-law's generosity in offering to house them both.

Regina fingered the long strand of perfectly matched pearls. Their dainty size had the
jeune fille
look of having been given to her as a young girl. ‘Unfortunately, Rupert, his wife and later their son, never let a chance slip of making us feel like a pair of burdensome dependents, whilst giving the impression to outsiders that we were one united family.'

‘That must have been highly distressing to endure.' What a contrast, Lord Stodmarsh reflected, such behaviour was to Lillian's in warmly inviting and welcoming Madge Bradley, who had been at a low point in life, to Mullings.

‘It was harder on my daughter, Sylvia, than me. She was always a spirited girl and as the years passed she became rebellious as a result of being constantly criticized by her aunt.' Regina Stapleton's clasped hands tightened. ‘At seventeen she ran off with the groom. All my efforts to trace them failed. Several months later she wrote to say she was pregnant and begged to be allowed to return to Cragstone. My brother, at his wife's urging, refused. I begged, to no avail. I sent money, but they had moved to other lodgings and the envelope was returned with its contents intact. The next news came from the former groom. She had died in childbirth, and the baby with her. It was, understandably, an embittered letter.'

Being a sensitive man, Lord Stodmarsh had to clear his throat before answering. ‘I am most heartily sorry.'

‘It was nearly twenty-five years ago.' Regina's eyes met his steadily. ‘I have an annuity, sufficient to indulge myself in this holiday and other jollifications, but not nearly enough to enable me to set up my own household. His son, who inherited the estate, wishes me gone, but shrinks from the talk that would be occasioned by tossing me out on the world.' She drew in a breath. ‘Forgive me, Edward, I must sound a querulous and exceedingly tiresome old woman.'

‘Not a bit of it, I appreciate your confiding in me.' It was time for luncheon and he escorted her inside to what had become their table. The Dover sole was probably delicious, but His Lordship was unaware of what he ate. His ready compassion was deeply stirred by the story of Regina's daughter, and her possibly avoidable death. His imagination presented him with a hovel and a half-witted old crone presiding over the birth. There was also Regina's present situation to be deplored. It distressed him profoundly that she must return to a life of dependency at Cragstone. A sigh escaped him. There was not a thing he could do to help, except by endeavouring to make her time in Weymouth as enjoyable as possible. He would extend his own stay, until her return to Northumbria.

‘Are you missing your beloved Labrador, Edward?' The inquiry was a little wistful.

‘No, my grandson Ned writes that they are providing each other with plenty of exercise. Why do you ask?' He was touched by her sensitivity.

‘That sigh, just now.'

‘I was thinking how quickly a holiday passes when in enjoyable company, and that I would like to stay on longer here,' he hesitated, ‘if I would not be making a nuisance of myself.'

‘Are you sure it might not be the other way round?' The look in the dark brown eyes was intent.

‘My dear,' he replied earnestly, ‘meeting you has brightened my life more than you can know.'

It did not cross his mind that he might have implied more than an appreciation of her company, that she might misconstrue that statement as a declaration of deeper feelings, leading up to a proposal of marriage. He was not a worldly man; indeed, he was very much an innocent abroad in his present situation. Thoughts of anything more than friendship never entered his head. He liked Regina Stapleton, found time passed quickly in her company, and realized that what he'd initially taken for a hard edge to her expression was the determined compression of painful thoughts.

The subject changed, as they sipped their post-luncheon coffee, to the pleasure of listening to plays on the wireless on wintry evenings. It failed to occur to him that Regina might assume he was painting a permanently companionable portrait of the two of them ensconced in wing chairs, savouring a hearty blaze in the fireplace. His mind was otherwise occupied, considering various expeditions that might appeal to Regina during the remainder of their stay, including another London play or perhaps a concert.

It wasn't until the evening prior to each returning to their homes that he realized he had unwittingly misled her. It was still light and they were seated in their usual places in the conservatory. The sliver of moon was barely visible in the pale sky. Nearby branches rustled gently, and the air was permeated with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earthiness that always seemed to signal autumn. Edward was feeling the awkwardness preceding their adieux, sharpened by the possibility – indeed, the likelihood, of their not meeting again. He was now eager to be home, which brought a pang, verging on guilt, that she could not be feeling the same pleasurable anticipation.

‘I shall miss you,' he said. Then, impulsively, ‘It is my great wish that you should come to Mullings …' Before he could add,
on a visit so I can show you our countryside
,
which is regarded by many as delightful
, she forestalled him. Her look was both direct and steady, accompanied by her rather thin lips curving into a mischievous smile. He dared not allow himself to think of Lillian.

‘I shall not flutter my hands and say,
this is so sudden
, because you must know I have been pleasurably anticipating you asking me to marry you, my very dear Edward; and, yes, I will be honoured to be your wife.'

His Lordship was staggered. It took a long moment for him to realize that this wasn't an unreasonable assumption on her part. The past month unfolded in his mind like a map, revealing all the little byways to this destination. He had unintentionally raised hopes that were now impossible for a gentleman to dash. Only a cad would do so. This being the case, was it such a bad outcome? Regina would be removed from a life of being housed under sufferance, and there could be benefits for members of his own family. He sometimes worried that Madge felt obliged to provide him with company to the extent of curtailing her own inclinations for relaxation. She was still a relatively young woman. She should be going on outings with people of a similar age to herself and enjoying the opportunity to pursue interests beyond discussing books and playing chess with him. His Lordship was very fond of Madge – considerably more so, regrettably, than he was of his daughter-in-law, Gertrude, admirable though he thought her in many ways, particularly in her sufferance of William's boorishness, for want of a better word. There was no condemnation sufficient, in His Lordship's view, for the man who had brutally abandoned Madge at the altar. It was unconscionable, as would be his subjecting Regina to humiliating rejection.

‘Edward,' her deep voice sounded unaccustomedly hesitant, ‘have I been precipitate? Have I made a pathetic fool of myself?'

‘Absolutely not,' he responded resolutely, ‘I have grown very fond of you during these past weeks and we have much in common.'

‘Then I could not be happier at this moment.'

‘That being the case, we must begin planning our future together.' He placed his hand on hers, its thinness and raised blue veins offset by the manicured nails. With that simple gesture the irrevocable commitment was made, as bindingly in his view as if accompanied by the wedding vows. He wondered if an observer would see their smiles as one. He hoped so; because from this time forward her happiness and peace of mind must be his primary concern. Not easy in a second marriage with a family to consider, but so it was written. With sensitivity and co-operative goodwill, a unity of thought and purpose could be achieved.

‘Your going suddenly quiet just now worried me, my dear. Foolish, I know, but I am afraid my self-esteem has taken something of a battering over the years, causing me to doubt my personal value, especially to a man of your calibre.'

He stood and kissed her on the forehead before returning to his chair.‘You have been surrounded by people unworthy of you, but this is a new start for both of us.' The attempt not to think of Lillian failed. Her face was there vividly behind his eyes and her beloved voice spoke to his heart from out of the past: ‘We are so often frustrated in our desire to make the world a better place for the many who suffer, but we can make a difference for the better in the lives of some we are destined to meet.' That memory brought him a measure of peace. As if Regina read his mind, her eyes met his eyes squarely.

‘There is something I have to say, Edward, which I hope will bring you ease of mind. That your feelings for me will never come near to equalling your love for your late wife is as it should be. It not only causes me no distress, but indeed heightens my estimation of you. My aspiration is that our union will be built on a different foundation, one of companionship, affection and shared interests. As for,' she paused, ‘physical intimacy, I think it unnecessary at our time of life. Your not wishing for it, either from disinclination, or because it would cause you to feel like an adulterer, suits me very well. Even as a young woman, perhaps because of my husband's insensitivities in that direction, I never had much interest in that side of marriage. If I am wrong regarding your wishes, I do hope you will tell me so.'

It would not have done for His Lordship to respond that Regina had greatly relieved his mind on this score, and that to have lain in the biblical sense with any woman other than Lillian would have seemed tantamount to adultery; he again reached for her hand, his expression warmly appreciative.

‘I am very grateful for you being forthright and frank with me, Regina, and I am in full agreement that we have much beyond what would have been considered important in our youth to build upon.'

She sat looking thoughtful for several moments.

Concern showed on his face. ‘Now you are the one to turn quiet. Is there something else you feel needs to be discussed?'

‘Nothing monumental, but there is something else I would like to broach. It concerns a tradition that has existed in our family and a favour I hesitate to ask of you, yet I feel an obligation to do so.'

Lord Stodmarsh listened attentively and having heard her out agreed to the request. He did so out of an understanding of her feelings, which he thought admirably compassionate. And yet, he had recoiled from the image evoked – the one that had triggered his disturbing dream on the night of his return to Mullings. Now, on the following morning, he returned to the present to discover that he had grown physically chilled sitting on the stone bench by the summer house, and that his heart was still troubled.

With Rouser trotting at his heels, His Lordship returned to the house and partook of a solitary breakfast, the other family members not yet having risen. He then requested that Grumidge attend him in his study. After informing the butler of his impending marriage, he requested the news be disseminated to the rest of the staff. He sat alone for a half-hour in the leather chair behind his desk, the portrait of Lillian painted in the first year of their marriage facing him above the fireplace. Eventually, he pulled the bell rope to summon the housemaid. At her prompt appearance, he asked her to request Mrs Norris to come to the study to join him at her convenience.

Florence arrived within minutes. He rose and invited her to take the chair across from his before reseating himself. Looking at her, he found himself remembering the reed-thin girl she had been when she had first come to Mullings. There were now some threads of gray in her abundantly coiled hair, but to him she would always be in part the eagerly wistful Florie Wilks. A snippet of memory had come to him on his return journey to Dovecote Hatch. Sometime during her many years at Mullings she had mentioned her mother having been in service with a family in Northumbria which had continued an eccentric tradition, long after it had passed out of vogue. As with many attentive listeners, he had excellent retention of minute detail, and in this case it was the name of that family – Tamersham.