The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) (14 page)

“A pity,” the major said, leaning over my hand. “It feels early to me.”

“Me, too,” I replied in a small voice. “If I had a choice…”

He lifted a brow. “If you had a choice?”

“I’d like to stay all night. Or, at least, until I felt tired.”

“What shall you do? If I were a great rogue, I should ask you to my room.”

I smiled. “But you are a great rogue, are you not?”

“Maybe. And you are at my mercy. Are you not afraid?”

“Touché.”

“The offer is there…”

“And you think I would accept?”

He raised my hand to his lips and lingered over it. “Please, you are welcome.”

I had never received such a scandalous invitation. And from a man whose very proximity sent me mindless. I wanted to say yes, how much I wanted to do so, but some moral fiber in me said no. “I’m sorry. I cannot. I wish I could but if I did, I think I’d be…”

“Spoiling a good thing?”

“Yes,” I answered, at long last. “It’s peculiar. Can you read my mind?”

In answer, he rose to his feet and assisted me out of my chair. “Sadly, it is time for us to leave. However much I’d like this party to continue, it is over.”

“That was gentlemanly of you,” I whispered as we left the restaurant, me clutching his arm.

“Did you not consider me a gentleman before?”

My response was quick, perhaps aided by the wine. “You are the epitome of a gentleman.” I paused. “But you also a man of mysteries. Your work with Scotland Yard. You won’t tell me anything about it. May I ask you a question?”

“I’m not stopping you, am I?” He smiled.

We were almost at the door to my room. “If I were your wife, would you tell me about your work?”

Stopping at the door, he heaved a sigh. “It’s difficult to say. I’ve always been alone; worked alone. If I had someone in my life, very close, a wife, like you say, I really don’t know. I’d like to maintain steadfast in my job and I hope my wife would respect that.”

My gaze narrowed. “Then how would a socialite darling like Lady Lara fare? A poor choice in wife, I would think.”

“Extremely poor. Which is why I will not marry her. I don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“Because,” the words ran out of my mouth, “I’ve known and observed women like her before. They are what you call ‘femme fatales.’”

“Have you written about them?”

“I hope to,” I said. “I will create one the world will never forget, mark my words.”

“I believe you,” he said in a whisper and I felt my guard begin to melt. It was so difficult to resist this man, this man I loved. However, I knew that if I strayed across the boundaries of moral decorum I would jeopardize our future.

“The future is such an uncertain thing.” I laughed to myself. “What future can
we
possibly have? You are not publicly
free
at the moment and I am not sure you would make a faithful husband. But for now, shall we call it a night?”

“Yes.” He raised my hand to his lips once more. “Although you know how much I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you wildly, I will refrain. On the grounds of moral decorum.”

“Thank you,” I said, and rushed inside the door.

Once there, I leaned against it, almost feeling the heat of him and our encounter through the timber.

“Are you all right?”

Ellen, in her nightgown.

“I think so. Oh dear…” I put a hand to my head.

“Have you drunk too much? Were you with the major?”

“Yes … and I suppose, yes.”

She giggled. “But you came back here?”

“I almost wish I hadn’t,” I confided, collapsing on my bed.

“You would have regretted it in the morning,” Ellen said sensibly.

And I believed she was right.

*   *   *

The train ride home to Thornleigh proved uneventful.

After seeing us safely home, Major Browning returned to London to await the results of the flowers and chocolates. He also promised to speak with the solicitors and further question the hotel staff as to who delivered the basket and when.

“They won’t find anything.” Ellen sighed.

Nanny Brickley was shocked. “Who could do such a thing? The same person who killed Uncle Teddy?”

“Ellen was clearly targeted,” I replied. “And she’s been targeted before.”

Ellen sent me a woebegone look. I understood she didn’t want Alicia knowing too much. Perhaps she thought she might be afraid to continue her duties if she knew the danger to Charlotte. And Charlotte loved her nanny.

“Is Charlotte in danger?” Alicia’s gaze rested on the child.

Charlotte went on playing with her puzzle, unaware of this conversation.

“And who is that man hanging about the place?”

“He’s a … kind of protector,” Ellen answered. “Major Browning thought it a good idea.”

Nanny agreed.

“But who would harm a child? Have you received notes before?”

This time, Ellen did not hold back. She relayed all the death threats she’d received. “The police know, of course. There is little they can do.”

“Uncle Teddy should have told them earlier.” Alicia turned pale. “If he had, maybe … maybe he’d still be alive today.”

“The doctor says his heart was weak and he was therefore susceptible to the poison. Whoever put the poison in his cup knew of his condition. The only clear answer in my mind is his business associates. Someone wanted him dead for an intelligent reason I cannot fathom.”

“Dean thinks the same,” Alicia whispered. “He came to visit while you were gone.”

“He came to Thornleigh?” Ellen shot out of her chair. “Did anyone else come?”

If Alicia was surprised by the outburst, she didn’t show it. “No. He came on his own, expressly to see me.” Lowering her gaze, she blushed. “He came to tell me about my inheritance. It was … unexpected.”

“His promises weren’t in vain,” Ellen assured her. “He always said he would leave you something.”

“But I don’t, I mean I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t feel guilty.”

“But the others—”

“You mean Rosalie, of course. Yes, I suppose it came as a shock. But Teddy had his reasons for leaving her what he did.”

“She must be angry…”

“Very,” I said. “It was the most uncomfortable meeting I’ve ever been to. Daggers drawn everywhere.”

“It must have been a comfort to have Daphne.” Alicia sympathized with Ellen.

Ellen allowed a little smile to appear on her lips. “And it was a
great
comfort to have Major Browning, too. He’s always there watching over us, isn’t he, Daphne?”

It was my turn to blush.

Though Alicia knew of the major’s engagement, she said nothing. However, I sensed her wondering about me and the fact made me feel decidedly uncomfortable.

*   *   *

Whatever perception I had about my own character, being a femme fatale wasn’t one of them. Nor a wanton woman, tempting a man away from his lady.

Lady Lara Fane is not his lady,
I told myself.

But if she was not, then why did I see her arriving from the hall window?

Heart beating wildly, I froze. Why had she come? To visit Ellen? To offer her condolences? If so, why didn’t her parents or her mother accompany her? Why come alone?

“Excuse me, miss.” A maid bobbed before me. “A lady’s come to see ye. I put her in the tearoom.”

“Thank you, Olivia.”

I didn’t even have a moment to compose myself. Sweeping out of her motorcar, Lady Lara had appeared dressed for a soiree and here I was barely out of my morning robe.

“Oh, forgive me.” Her painted red lips smiled when I entered the tearoom. “I see you are unprepared for visitors.”

Ignoring her, I glanced at Olivia. “Tea, please, Olivia.”

Looking from Lady Lara to me, Olivia nodded and curtsied and I only imagined what tale she’d carry back to Nelly in the kitchen.

“I will come straight to the point.” Poised to her full height, Lady Lara observed me through critical eyes. She was exceptionally beautiful, and she knew it. Tall, slim, not a hair out of place, or a blemish on her face and I felt immeasurably dowdy in comparison.

“What is between you and Tommy?”

I cringed at her use of his nickname.

“There is no use pretending. I have seen you two together.”

I stared at her. Was she baiting me to betray something he’d told me in confidence? Did she suspect that I knew her engagement to him was a sham?

I pretended to go along with her game as I took a seat. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean … the major and I are friends.”

“‘Friends,’” she echoed, sitting down. “There are many different types of friendships, wouldn’t you agree?”

I shrugged.

“Varying degrees of attachments, some wholesome, some not so wholesome.”

This time she had gone too far. I shot to my feet. “Whatever you are insinuating, Lady Lara…”

She stood up. “Yes?”

“I am not—”

“Yes?”

I wanted to say “wanton.” Or one who breaks up engagements and marriages. “The major and I have a
wholesome
friendship,” I said instead. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

“But there are rumors,” she insisted as Olivia brought in the tea.

She waited until Olivia departed.

“Shall I pour?” I poured. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon?”

“No milk and lemon.”

I put in two sugar cubes and milk and handed it to her.

Stiffening, she set the teacup down. “Tommy is right. You do have a fiery temperament. He told me about your involvement in the Padthaway case and your lucky escape last winter. Does drama find you or do you find it?”

I expected some kind of insult after the one I’d given her. “I don’t actually know.”

She turned to find fault with the room’s decor. “Tommy and I are planning a spring wedding. He has put your name on the invitation list. Will you come, I wonder?”

This news stabbed me like a knife. Invitations. Invitations? If they were sending out invitations, the engagement couldn’t be a farce.

“No need to answer yet.” Lady Lara smiled. “I really must be going. I just wanted to have a little chat with you. Now we know where each of us stand?”

Without waiting, she collected her umbrella and preened out of the door.

I remained staring after her, a formidable enemy, a woman scorned.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“It’s poison hemlock … a rare kind. Identical traces of the poison were found in your husband.”

Ellen turned around from the window in the breakfast parlor. While the inspector and his sergeant delivered their findings, she stood perfectly still. When they finished, her eyes lowered and she wiped away a tear.

I handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose. “So we’re dealing with the same murderer, Inspector James?”

The little middle-aged man nodded. Since the findings, he’d come down from the north country to handle the case. I wondered if he knew Major Browning. In the silence, I asked the question but Inspector James shook his head.

“I have heard of the major certainly, Miss du Maurier. If I may say so, you are both very lucky ladies. If you’d consumed the chocolates, even a small dose, you’d find yourself in the hospital or worse.”

Lifting a weary hand to her forehead, Ellen summoned tea for our visitors. “They killed my husband and now they wish me dead.” She shivered. “I have a terrible feeling this has to do with more than money.”

“Revenge?” I posed to the inspector.

He rolled his shoulders. “Who can ever tell what motive there is for wanting to kill? It could be as simple or as complex as we can imagine.”

“What is your plan now, Inspector?”

“To keep close, Mrs. Grimshaw. To interview each member of the family and certain business associates of your late husband.”

“Are you taking the files?” I asked.

“Not yet.” Inspector James opted for coffee instead of tea. “Scotland Yard has an interest in those files. When the major completes his report, then the files will become police property until the case is closed.”

“What if the case doesn’t close?” Ellen shrieked. “What about my daughter? Our safety?”

“Rest assured, Mrs. Grimshaw, you have taken the necessary precautions and you are surrounded by friends here. I would advise, however, you keep your daughter close to you, even when you travel to these monthly meetings.”

Ellen sat up. “Why do you say so? Do you think they’ll strike her next?”

“We cannot predict the mind of a madman, madam.”

“Or a mad
woman,
” I put in.

“So.” The inspector flipped out his notepad. “According to my initial questions, you attest that on the day of your husband’s death you never saw him until at the wedding ceremony?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Ellen whispered. “I wish I had … but it’s tradition not to see the bride until the ceremony.”

“What about you, Miss Daphne? Did you see Mr. Grimshaw on the day of the wedding?”

I stretched my mind back, running past each event of the day. Most of it seemed a blur because of the tragedy. “I believe I saw him in the morning … going into the library.”

“What time was this?”

“Just before lunch.”

“Was he alone?”

“As far as I could see, but as you know, Thornleigh was crowded with visitors.”

The inspector nodded. “Did you at any time see Mr. Grimshaw speak to Miss Rosalie on the day?”

“No … I was mostly in the bride’s room, preparing as bridesmaids do.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grimshaw, Miss du Maurier. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to question the household staff once more … I’ll start with Nelly, the cook.”

I led the inspector and his sergeant down to the kitchen.

“Nelly,” I said, “the police are here. They want to talk to you.”

Her face turned bright red. “What do they want to talk to me for? There’s no poison in my food, I’ll have ye know—oh, Inspector,” she greeted, “what’ll it be? Tea? Custard tart?”

“Nothing, thanks, Nelly—”

“Oh, sir,” his sergeant spoke up, “I’ll have a custard tart.” He grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Nelly.”

“Oh, just call me Nelly, lad. Or Nell. That’s what the old master used to call me. And there was never once any trouble with my food, not since I began in service. Ye ask anyone. Isn’t that right, Miss Daphne?”