The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) (2 page)

BOOK: The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries)
9.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“No, Daphne,” she drew me aside later. “You mustn’t envy what I’ve been through. Yes, I’ve learned much from it and it is fit for a novel,” she smiled faintly, “but don’t envy me. You have your whole life ahead of you and innocence is something you don’t want to part with too early.”

“I am
not
innocent.”

She sighed, her perceptive green eyes knowing better.

“Have you any word of your stepdaughter-to-be?”

“Well, Rosalie
is
coming to the wedding. Teddy’s gone to meet her at the station. Oh Daphne, I’m dreading it … dreading it all.”

“The wedding or his daughter’s arrival?”

“Both. You know how much she hates me.”

“Pressed by her mother,” I reminded. “Surely she’s excited to have a little sister? I can’t imagine growing up without my sisters … I suspect only children are very lonely.”

“And spoilt,” Ellen added. “Unfortunately, Rosalie is more concerned with losing her inheritance than gaining a sister.”

“Again spurred on by the mother?”

“Oh, Daphne, you know all of my history but not many others do. If word were to leak out, it would ruin me.”

“It
won’t
leak out and it won’t ruin you,” I assured her. “The daughter or her mother would be fools to try something like it.”

“I think they will try. They can’t stand Teddy to be happy again. Oh, I wished they’d just stayed in Boston!”

I pressed her hand. “Now, where’s little Charlotte?”

“Not so little now. She turned eight last month.”

“Eight! I remember when she was born…”

“Yes, so do I.” Ellen smiled. “She’s with Nanny Brickley at the moment and she loved those books you sent her. We read them every night.
Hansel and Gretel
is her favorite and reminds me of the summers we spent together in the woods at Thornleigh.”

I was glad she noted the connection for I had thought the same when I looked at the illustrations.

“And, my darling, have you seen the major since your last letter? You must keep me up to date, you know, for otherwise how can I look out for you? Is he a good man or is he a cad? He seems very popular with women; I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“As is your Teddy.”

Ellen reflected before returning with a fond smile. “Yes, I suppose you are right. He is the darling of his family. You should see how his sisters dote on him.”

“Have they all arrived for the wedding?”

“Mostly, yet I am anxious to get to Thornleigh first.”

“To prepare for the invasion.”

“Exactly so.” Grinning, Ellen asked what I thought of the new painting of Charlotte on the wall. “Teddy commissioned Rudolf Heinemann to do it. See how she’s smiling? That’s her smile for Daddy. He so adores her. He always wanted more children but he never thought it would happen.”

“Nor did you,” I gently reminded with a laugh. “I remember your horrified letter in which you confessed to me your
mortal sin.

“It was a good thing I kept it hidden from Mama,” Ellen reflected. “News of the pregnancy would have killed her.
Scandal of the century.

I laughed. “Well, for a time.”

“One would have thought after the war people would be more accepting and forgiving. But some things they never forget. They hold onto it and it festers until it becomes poison … that’s why I dread if…”

“Nothing will happen. Years have passed since then.”

“Dear, wise Daphne! I am so relieved you are here. Adding the crystals to the dresses was a great idea.”

“You’ll be a radiant bride, the most radiant of the season.”

A sudden pallor crept into her face. “Please don’t say such things. You know how I hate being the center of attention. I just want the wedding over and done with so we can begin our lives at Thornleigh.”

“But does Teddy agree? He has his business in America.”

“Yes, he does,” she sighed, “so we’ve reached a compromise. Half year there and half year here so Charlotte gets the best of both worlds.”

“You’re brave to take on the ‘Boston Brahmins’ again.” I smiled.

“It will be a challenge, but then my whole life has been a challenge. I suppose, in a way, I am used to it.”

“You’ll triumph, I am sure,” I proclaimed. “And I want to see many pictures of you in the paper defeating the Boston Brahmins. Agreed?”

“I’ll do my best.” Ellen laughed.

 

CHAPTER TWO

I did well to hide my disappointment from the wedding party.

On the morning of our departure, my mother telephoned, saying, “Major Browning has not called. Do you wish to leave a message if he does?” I said no, with more vehemence than I intended. Why hadn’t he kept his promise? Why hadn’t he called?

“Daphne? Are you all right?”

Ellen found me slamming down the telephone.

“What’s the matter? It’s him, isn’t it? The major?”

“Y-yes. He promised he’d call.”

“He will,” Ellen soothed. “From what you write of him, he sounds like a man of integrity.”

Her words failed to placate me. Biting my lower lip, I hunted through the usual excuses. Perhaps he’d been summoned away without any notice? Summoned to a secret assignment where he planned to write at the first opportunity? “He
did
accept your wedding invitation, didn’t he?”

“Why, yes.” Ellen sounded surprised. “He said he’d be delighted to attend and would come with the Rutland party.”

I blinked. “The
earl
of Rutland? He’s coming to your wedding?”

“Indeed, he is.” Ellen’s self-satisfied smile grew wider. “They were great friends of my parents, if you recall. They came to my mother’s funeral so I thought why not invite them to my wedding? I daresay the papers will be abuzz with it. I only let them know this morning.”

“Dear Ellen.” I laughed along with her. “You’re a great success.”

Her smile vanished. “Don’t think too highly of me, Daphne. Sometimes I feel compelled to do these things I don’t want to do.”

“You mean playing the social game? Returning fire with fire?”

“Yes … and more.” The shadow left her face and the bright sparkle in her eyes returned. “We’re to train it then as Harry has organized cars to take us to Thornleigh.”

“Harry. How is he?”

“Oh, well. He’s Harry, isn’t he? Always looks on the bright side of life. To be sure, I couldn’t have managed without him all these years.”

“He’s been a good friend,” I said softly. “What does Teddy think of him?”

“He’s happy for Harry to stay as estate manager. Who better than Harry? And we have so much work to do. You’ll be amazed when you see Thornleigh.”

“Thank you for sending me a copy of the renovation plans. You know how much I adore old houses.”

“And your input is crucial.” Ellen squeezed my hand. “I want Thornleigh restored to its former glory, like in the painting.”

I remembered the sixteenth-century painting gracing the main hall at Ellen’s family home.

“It’s a huge enterprise,” Ellen went on, “but Teddy loves the house too and being a man, likes to ‘fix’ things. We plan to be abroad for the winter when a lot of the major renovations will take place. Repairing the roof and restoring the west wing, et cetera.”

“So you’ll travel back to Boston sometime after the wedding?”

“Yes. It’s Teddy’s mother. She’s too ill to travel and she hasn’t seen Charlotte.”

“But you’d prefer to stay at Thornleigh,” I finished for her with a tease. “I’d hate to leave, too, but think of the changes when you return! And winters are miserable here.”

“You’re right and you cheer me up immensely. Now, I suppose we have dallied long enough. I think that’s the last of the packing by the door. Can you be a darling and take down my wedding dress? I don’t trust anyone else with it.”

I was happy to comply. It kept my mind from thinking about
him,
Major Browning. The missing major who failed to honor his promises.

Arriving at Victoria Station, I did allow myself to search for his face among the crowds. As he hadn’t called at the house, surely he could have troubled himself to see me off at the station? Or at least send a note?

I thought my apprehension had gone unnoticed by our party.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Ellen pulled my arm.

“I’m not sure I know what love is.” I swallowed, watching my step lest I fall over and give in to misery.

“Then there’s two of us.” Grasping my gloved hand in her own, Ellen propelled us toward Nanny Brickley. “Charlotte has brought Teddy and me back together, I know that for a fact.”

I almost tripped in shock. “Don’t you love Teddy?”

“Of course I do, but sometimes I wonder if Charlotte hadn’t come along, would this wedding be happening? It seems like a dream, after all we’ve been through, and I suppose I’m afraid to believe it lest it evaporate before my eyes.”

“It
is
happening,” I assured her as we reached our designated carriage.

“Teddy made all the arrangements,” Ellen said, handing our tickets to the attendant. “He wanted us to travel ‘in style.’”

Once on the train, Ellen paused, looking the epitome of the elegant sophisticated bride in her dove-gray suit and fine pearls. “I may look the part but I am not one for the center stage. I like dark corners like you and would much prefer to travel second class than first.”

She whispered this so the others didn’t hear, the others being too overwhelmed by the opulence of our carriage to care. Like a palace on wheels, the beautifully appointed Pullman carriage assigned to us (thanks to Mr. Teddy Grimshaw, millionaire) abounded in unprecedented luxury.

Resisting the urge to jump on the burgundy upholstered couch, I admired the elaborate royal interior. From the brass handles to the drapes on the wide scenic windows, every little detail had been considered and incorporated to ensure a comfortable journey.

Drawing to the window, I scaled the length of the platform, oblivious to my train companions cooing expressions of “oh, this is glorious,” “what style,” and “this trip must have cost a
fortune
.”

Yes, a small fortune, I thought, remembering the face of a beggar I’d seen recently on the streets. My peevishness intensified as hope faded from my eyes. There was no sight of Major Browning, no glimpse of the face I wished to see above all emerging out of the station mist.

“Are you expecting someone?”

The soft American voice caught me off guard. Peeling my gaze away from the window, I watched Nanny Brickley putting away her hand-box. In my experience, Americans were very direct while we English remained inherently coy about our private affairs.

“A gentleman, I gather?”

“A
friend,
” I was quick to reply.

Alicia Brickley smiled to herself.

I didn’t like the calculation in her doe-brown eyes. As a poor relative of Teddy Grimshaw, he’d seen that she had a place in his household. Formerly a secretary and now a nanny to his newfound child.

“She’s Teddy’s niece; the poor cousin,” Ellen once explained.

“Has she any experience?”

“Four younger sisters and two half-brothers. Who can go against that?”

Nobody, evidently, and Alicia Brickley intended to keep her exalted post. She was treated more like a member of the family, and little Charlotte loved her and that was all that mattered.

I consulted my wristwatch. Five minutes to go. Had he called at the house? Had he received my message?

“All aboard!”

My heart sank as the whistle blew. Frowning at the window, I promised myself to vilify Frederick Arthur Montague Browning in a future novel.

*   *   *

Preferring to read a book or play with little Charlotte over mixing with my lively companions, I buried my disappointment.

I had to do so. I was here as chief bridesmaid and I had a job to do.

“It’ll be the most beautiful wedding of the season,” declared Megan Kellaway. As number-two bridesmaid, Megan was optimistic, infectious, and engaging, a personality I loved perhaps because it was alien to my own. “Thornleigh at dusk! How unusual … I can’t wait to read the write-up in the papers.”

“As much as meeting all the available men?” Angela teased and Megan grinned.

“Well,” said she, “I don’t want to be a spinster.”

As the daughter of Sir Roger Kellaway, Esquire, Megan had her choice amongst the season’s offerings.

“Maybe one of the American relatives?” Eyes dancing, Megan asked Ellen again for the names of those gentlemen attending the wedding.

“I like the sound of the nephew,” Megan pronounced afterward. “Jack Grimshaw … hmm; can I see myself living in America?”

“Poor man.” Jeanne grinned. “Hunted like a fox.”

“Are you sure you want all of us sharing part of your honeymoon with you?” The third bridesmaid, Mrs. Clarissa Fenwick, crossed her long legs on the lush upholstery. “After all, darling Ellen, you and Teddy have been too long and too cruelly parted.”

With Charlotte on her lap, Ellen’s face radiated that of a contented mother. With her bouncing blond curls and mischievous little face, Charlotte had no idea of the scandalous drama her entry into the world had caused. “It doesn’t bother us at all, does it, princess?”

“I heard the Spencers turned their nose up at the invitation,” Angela commented. “Better for you, I say! I can’t stand that pretentious Bertha.”

“And Mama says don’t be upset about the West-Mortons,” Jeanne put in. “They are not at all ‘the thing’ anymore.”

“I don’t care a fig about any of them,” Ellen retorted, roused to the conversation when Charlotte wriggled off her lap to go to Nanny Brickley. “The past is done with and those who judge me for it I’d rather not know at all.”

“Hear, hear.” Tapping the sideboard, Megan called for champagne.

I had no complaints about the train. The new S-class sleeping cars painted blue with gold lettering and lining and accompanied by its exquisite wooden marquetry and brass fittings radiated the essence of grandeur and wealth.

Grandeur and comfort didn’t always come automatically together but this train outdid itself. From the sleeping quarters to the dining car and lounge, every tiny comfort had been addressed. It made me think whimsically of the
Titanic
and its tragic voyage. I prayed we experienced no such catastrophe again.

BOOK: The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries)
9.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Obsessed by G. H. Ephron
A Dog and a Diamond by Rachael Johns
Land of No Rain by Amjad Nasser
Down Cemetery Road by Mick Herron
Blood Games by Jerry Bledsoe
Just Fine by France Daigle, Robert Majzels