The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) (13 page)

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “We have a plan to lure out the fox and trap him.”

“Him, sir?”

“I would say ‘her,’” I put in. “How does one trap a female fox?”

“Why don’t we discuss it over tea?” the major suggested and I warmed to him, to his strength, to his reassuring presence. Oh, how I wished he was mine.

*   *   *

“I really don’t feel equipped to do what you want me to do,” Ellen whispered over a fresh cup of hot tea.

“The monthly meetings aren’t formidable,” he promised. “And we don’t expect you to understand what is discussed there, only that you take notes and report to us.”

“All of this means something, doesn’t it, Major? But you won’t say what it is.”

“I can’t say because we don’t actually know at the moment. Foxes have a way of going underground when they are pursued. Give it time, Mrs. Grimshaw. Give it time.”

“Thank you for your support today, both of you.”

She gazed from him to me. I registered the query behind her eyes and blushed. The major intensified my blush by smiling at me. It was the kind of smile one gave when holding one’s hand.

“I suppose we ought to be getting back now.” Ellen broke the awkwardness. “I promised Charlotte I’d buy her a new dress and thought I’d go shopping this afternoon.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Grimshaw, I don’t think that is a wise idea.”

“Why ever not? You think I’m in danger, too, don’t you?”

“Let’s get moving, ladies,” the major said, firm and serious. “And I think it’s in your best interests, Mrs. G., to have a man about caring for your safety. I have already taken the liberty of hiring one for today. He’s a trustworthy man and has no current engagements.”

“Oh.”

The news came as a shock to Ellen.

“How long will I have to have this person?”

“It’s hard to say, but you have to realize you are a very rich lady.”

Once we were inside the car, Ellen implored the major for his particular advice.

“I would keep a man about for the remainder of the year.”

Ellen turned white. “What about Charlotte? They wouldn’t seek to harm her, would they?”

“Children are sometimes prey in wealthy families. Once this business is concluded, I recommend going home to Thornleigh and staying there but for the—”

“Monthly business meetings?”

“Yes.”

“You suggest leaving my child, Major? When she could be in danger?”

The major looked at me. “It’s always advisable to surround yourself with people you can trust. For the time being, you have Daphne. Do you trust her?”

“Of course I do! I’d trust her with my life!”

A whisper of a smile teased the major’s lips. “Good. Then you have your answer.” Turning to me, his eyes deepened with a new meaning. “And I’m sure Daphne will stay with you as long as you need her. She loves frolicking about in grand old houses.”

“I can stay the whole year if you need me,” I said to Ellen, open to the arrangement. “You know I love Thornleigh and there’s my book to write.”

“But your parents…”

“They won’t mind at all. In fact, they’d be relieved to have me so occupied. Papa’s busy with his new play and as you both know, London and I are not the best of friends.”

“Then it’s settled,” the major said, and I thought, pleased with himself.

*   *   *

Back at the hotel, I ran Ellen a hot bath and went downstairs to collect her messages. The elderly concierge shook his head.

“I am sorry, madam, but we sent Mrs. Grimshaw’s messages to her room.”

I asked whether this was the usual practice.

“Not normally, but Mrs. Grimshaw telephoned this morning. She wished for any messages to be sent directly to her room.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you.”

Frowning, the concierge began to look at me suspiciously. “And you are?”

“Miss du Maurier.”

“Mrs. Grimshaw’s companion?”

I paused. To some in my circle being called a companion might be regarded as an insult. I never thought of myself as a companion before and an intriguing possibility entered my mind. What was the life of a companion like? Perhaps I ought to make my character a companion at the start of the book?

Janet, a free and loving spirit finds herself hopelessly at the mercy of her rich relatives …

“Did you see them today?” Ellen said from her bath. “Vultures, all of them. The look on her face was priceless. She thought they were getting the Boston house.”

Rosalie and her mother.

“And no doubt much more. She’s furious with him for leaving her those company shares. It means she’ll have to work or at least have an interest in the company to reap its profits instead of being handed them on a silver platter. She’ll contest the will, of course.”

I said I had little doubt they would try.

“Jack is livid. He thought he had it easy; fetching and carrying for the heiress.”

Sitting down in the chair beside the bathtub, I told Ellen what I’d seen.

“Yes, I know. Jack and Rosalie. Teddy found out before he died. He had a man following them.”

She paused.

“And now that I think of it, Teddy’s been quite clever in leaving that company to the three of them: Rosalie, Jack, and Dean. Dean is the worker. But he won’t brook any tardiness, particularly when his future is at risk. He’ll make it work. They either have to make it work or risk losing the benefits.”

I couldn’t imagine Rosalie working at all and said as much.

“No,” Ellen agreed. “She’ll send Jack to look out for their interests. Remember, she still has the twenty thousand pounds.”

“Which will go quickly if her mother gets her hands on it.”

“Exactly. But it’s not my problem, is it? Once, a long time ago, before I learned Rosalie destroyed those letters, I thought we may have a chance to be a happy little family. Teddy, me, Charlotte, and Rosalie.”

“Things could change,” I replied, endeavoring to engender hope into this conversation.

“If she becomes her own person, yes … but can you see her free of her mother? Or even wanting to be? Her mother has controlled her whole life.”

I thought hard. An only child, raised by a domineering mother. But there comes a time when one leaves the nest to find their own home, their own place in the world.

“Jack will press Rosalie to marry him,” Ellen predicted. “But Rosalie knows which side of her bread is buttered. She’ll marry elsewhere.”

I nodded and fetched her a towel. “Oh, by the way, did your messages arrive?”

“Yes,” Ellen called out from the bathroom. “They’re on the table.”

On the table I found a small basket with a bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates, and scented flowers.

“Who are they from?” Ellen asked, drying her hair.

“Frankton and Morton.” I read the card.

Ellen paused to admire the flowers. “Nice, but a little bit inappropriate?”

I shrugged. “As your husband’s solicitors, they were obviously aware of the likely family squabbles.”

“Still … it’s odd. Care for a glass? After today, I certainly need a drink.”

So we sat down in the little reception parlor in our room. Upon our second glass, Ellen reached for the box of chocolates.

“How did they know I like chocolate?” Ripping open the box, Ellen offered the tray to me first.

I always took time in choosing. We loved chocolate in our house. As soon as I saw the box, from the Swiss chocolate company, I knew which one I wanted. While searching for it, the tray flipped from my hands and crashed to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” I cried, leaping down to pick the chocolates off the floor. Turning over the empty tray, I started to stack them but Ellen grabbed my hand.

“Daphne, stand away!”

I did so, startled by her outburst and the intensity of her expression.

“Look at the box!”

Black words obscured my vision.

DIE.

Written across the back of the box.

Shaking, Ellen lifted the telephone. “Help. Help … quickly.”

Placing down the receiver, she inched her way toward me. “I knew I was right. I knew they’d try
something.
”

“Shall I call for the major? He’ll know what to do.”

“Yes, yes,” Ellen murmured. “I should have known the moment the basket arrived. Morton and Frankton wouldn’t think of sending such a thing to me; they’re men. No, this is the hand of a woman. And the poison is meant for me.”

“If they are poisoned,” I pointed out.

“They must have planned it … they’ll be expecting to hear of my death…”

I stood with her while we waited. “What about the other death threats you received? Do you think they are from Rosalie and her mother, too?”

She began shaking again. “I don’t know. I expect so. And Teddy,” she wiped away a tear, “was the first victim. I am clearly the second.” Her gaze darted to the door. “Charlotte. I have to get home to Charlotte.”

Neither of us felt safe staying on in London. When the hotel manager arrived, he exclaimed at the mess on the floor.

“I’m certain it’s poison.” Ellen shivered. “And I can’t stay here another night. I just cannot.”

After a curt knock at the door, a maid appeared. “Excuse me, madam. A Major Browning telephoned to say he is on his way.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I shall begin packing at once.”

“We can move madam to another room?” the hotel manager suggested.

“No.” Ellen was firm. “But you can book the first train out of here.”

“There is not a train ’til the morning, madam. May I suggest you stay in our luxury suite? There is one on the ground floor next to my wife and myself. I assure you it is safe.”

He bent down to inspect the chocolates. “Poison, you say?”

“Don’t touch them,” Ellen advised.

“My wife loves these chocolates,” he went on, tempted.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Major Browning entered the room, an anxious maid hard on his heels. “Not until they are tested.”

Before the hotel manager could touch them, the major slipped on gloves and put the items into a brown paper bag. At my ashen face, he gestured to the flowers and collected them also.

“The flowers,” Ellen whispered, putting a hand to her head. “I sniffed those earlier … oh dear, I’m feeling very faint.”

“Fear will make you feel faint,” the major assured her.

“She’s determined not to stay another night in the city,” I said to him, and repeated the manager’s suggestion.

The major consulted his watch. “It isn’t the hour to move hotels. Move rooms, yes. If it makes you feel better, Mrs. Grimshaw, I will put a man outside your door.”

“Yes, do,” Ellen insisted, “but I should feel safer if you are here as well. I’ll pay for your room. Is there one next to us, Mr. Smythe?”

Mr. Smythe was quick to comply. “Why, yes. We have one available down the hall. And may I be so bold as to reserve you a table this eve, Mrs. Grimshaw?”

“A table for three, please, Mr. Symthe. A table for three.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ellen left the table early.

“No, Daphne, you stay. No harm can come to me. I have the major’s man outside my door, remember. I thought I’d take him this.” She opened her handkerchief to where she’d placed the remains of her dinner. “I know what it is like to go hungry.”

“That was thoughtful of her,” the major remarked after she’d gone. “What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story.” I smiled when he had my glass of wine refilled.

“We have
all
night.” He grinned back, and ordered another bottle of wine. “Dessert too. Plum pudding I think should be in order.”

“Good choice,” I said with a shiver. “How long will it take to find out about the flowers and chocolates?”

“A day or two.”

“Do you think they are poisoned?”

“Yes, I do. There is someone out there who wants Ellen dead.”

“The same person who killed her husband?”

“Possibly.”

“I can’t believe some think she killed him.”

“What do you believe?”

“Of course I believe my friend,” I retorted. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Touché. Of course you would. You are a loyal person.”

“Are you implying you are not?”

He shrugged. “That question you would have to pose to my dog.”

I laughed. I liked his sense of humor. And it was nice to have him all to myself for a change. “Missing your fiancée?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”

“What kind of wedding are you planning?”

He gave me a wearied look.

“Well, for the sake of her parents, I’m sure you often discuss the topic. I am just curious, that is all. What type of wedding would you like?”

“A small one. With only a few select friends and family.”

“Exactly my idea. After participating in Ellen’s wedding, I don’t think I could do it any other way. But then, I am not Lady Lara Fane, am I?”

“No,” he replied under his breath. “You are infinitely much more.”

“You are a practiced charmer.”

He smiled.

“A good one,” I conceded. “What do your parents think of Lady Lara?”

“They like her.”

“I suppose they’ve known her for some time.”

“Yes. I am something of a family friend, as the term goes.”

“You use the term very liberally.”

“Perhaps.”

“Have you ever indulged your friendly liberties with a woman?” The moment I said it, I wished I hadn’t. But it was too late now, and I blamed the wine.

His hand covered mine. “With you, I should always tell the truth. I have known many women.”

I felt my face turn redder. “Have you loved any of them?”

He paused to reflect. His tender gaze sought mine over the table. “What I have experienced mostly is lust. You ask of love…”

His voice trailed off and I suddenly felt self-conscious. His presence alone evoked within me something akin to love. I wasn’t sure if I loved him, but I knew I was
in
love with him. I could no longer ignore the fact.

The waiter soon returned to clear our table. It was getting late and we were the last in the restaurant. I sensed the waiter and the manager wanted to close for the night and said I thought it best that return to our rooms.