A Death in the Wedding Party (17 page)

Read A Death in the Wedding Party Online

Authors: Caroline Dunford

Tipton’s mother sat with a heaped plate of asparagus spears her gaze far into the distance as she chewed, and if truth be said she looked decided bovine. There was no sign of Tippy’s father. Richenda had withdrawn slightly and was half hidden behind some plants, at a small secondary table. I gathered my portion of food and moved over to join her.

‘May I join you?’

Richenda made a snorting sound. I decided to take this as a yes. I sat down beside her and said quietly, ‘As I am your good friend and bridesmaid it would be remiss of me not to offer what solace I can.’

‘You’re playing your part well,’ said Richenda between mouthfuls. ‘Too damn well if we’re not careful. I’ve already had a couple of the men trying to sound me out to see if you’re available. Even Tip-top, Tippy’s eldest brother asked.’ She raised her fork close to my face. ‘Don’t,’ she said waggling it for emphasis, ‘get ideas. A liaison with any of this men would shatter our charade and marriage with any of them would be out of the question.’

I coloured slightly. ‘While the lady I am impersonating might not be adverse to secret trysts, I was brought up quite differently.’

‘You are out of your class.’

‘If that is what it means to be out of my class then I am very happy there!’ I said with some heat.

Richenda paused and put her cutlery down. ‘I don’t know what to make of you,’ she said frankly, ‘my brother tells me such tales of you and Bertram is obviously smitten, but then at the slightest whiff of intimate matters you turn positively pious. If it’s an act it’s a very good one.’

It was one the tip of my tongue to say I was nothing but what I appeared to be, but this was untrue on so many levels. Instead I said, ‘Come let us not quarrel. We both find ourselves in a difficult situation. I do not fancy being closely questioned by the police and I am sure you wish to proceed with the wedding as soon as possible. Have Amelia or the Countess proposed anything?’

‘They want the funeral first, of course, but seeing as we are all gathered together and the banns were read here, they want to get it over with.’

‘So it won’t be on your birthday?’

‘Unlikely, but seeing as I’ve said you have to return to your own country in two weeks, I’m hoping that will carry things along.’

‘Goodness, Richenda, if you are going to say things like that you must also tell me!’

‘I just did. Don’t get stroppy with me. I’m a lady and you’re nothing but a jumped-up scrubber.’

‘A jumped-up scrubber who could drop you and your precious twin in a great deal of trouble,’ I snapped back.

‘Ooh, so the worm turns does it? Don’t doubt for a moment who would come out on top if any revelations were made!’

I took a deep breath and bit down hard on a piece of celery. I find celery is a most useful vegetable for venting your anger. ‘Look, the police will be interviewing us all today …’

‘They’ve started,’ said Richenda. ‘I’ve already done my bit.’

‘I was going to say if there are any more – er – issues that you don’t want revealed, now might be the time to forewarn me.’

‘Like?’

‘Like my needing to know I am unavailable in two weeks’ time. Or say why you and Lady Stapleford were arguing so fiercely?’

It was not the subtlest of approaches, but I simply couldn’t think of how to ask the question other than in a straight forward manner. As it was, my approach fell awry.

‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’ said Richenda with a positive growl in her voice.

‘No, of course not. The police must have asked you about it already.’

‘It wasn’t mentioned.’

‘I wonder why not? I wasn’t the only one to notice the disturbances a lot of the servants knew about it too.’

‘Who are the police going to take the word of? A lady or a maid?’

‘It’s not that easy,’ I said carefully, ‘I think the police will try and avoid questioning either of the Earls or the Countess, but I think they will be less discriminating with everyone else. If perhaps there was something I could let drop in my interview that explained the friction, it would make things easier.’

I often dismiss Richenda as unintelligent, but she has a certain calculating ability, even if it is far inferior to her brothers’. She gazed into the distance for a while. Then she said, ‘You could tell them that my stepmother had qualms that Tippy wasn’t good enough for me and that being passionately in love with him, and also almost on the eve of my wedding, I was vastly affronted.’

‘Is it true?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t she want you to marry Tippy?’

‘No, she didn’t, but she chose a fine time to tell me. Yes, we argued and she said some foul things about him that sent me almost mad with rage, but she is only my stepmama. I do not need her permission to wed, so you can assure the police I had no reason to kill her.’

‘Foul things?’

‘Nothing that bears repeating,’ said Richenda. ‘I think the old cow was losing her mind. Whoever got rid of her did us all a favour.’

‘You never said that to the police!’ I exclaimed.

‘No, of course I didn’t. What I want to know is what you are up to? If you hadn’t cried murder this would all have been tidied up in no time at all.’

‘There were already suspicions,’ I said thinking of Fitzroy.

‘Come closer,’ said Richenda, ‘Smile. People are watching us. Let them think we are exchanging confidences.’ She lowered her face to mine. ‘Let me make it quite clear that you will be going back to Stapleford Hall as a maid, and not even that if you make one more moment of trouble.’

I got up leaving my plate behind, smiled sweetly at her, though in reality I would not have minded sinking my teeth in the fleshy part of her upper arm, and I left the room.
11

I walked into the hallway with great purpose, but after a few steps floundered. There was still nothing to do. I might make my way to the library to read, but this would occasion comment. Ladies, especially royalty, are not meant to be keen readers. By rights I should ring for a small easel and try painting a watercolour, or even start doing some embroidery. But if I did my cover would be blown at once, for I was deeply deficient in both skills.

‘Ah, your Highness,’ said Robbins, creeping up on me with the typical stealth of his position. ‘Chief Inspector Brownly would be honoured if you would spare him a moment of your time when it is convenient.’

‘I’ll come now,’ I said. Robbins’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his receding hairline. That I should jump at a civilian’s call and one in such a lowly occupation obviously did not fit his idea of how Royalty should behave.

I gave an little impatient wave that was much more in keeping with my supposed character. ‘I am bored, Robbins, and I want this matter closed.’

‘The Earl would be the first to agree with you Ma’am,’ said Robbins and I got a very slight bow. I had redeemed myself in his eyes.

The chief inspector had been given a draughty room with uncomfortable chairs. It had an aspect that meant it must always lie in the shadows of a copse of trees. The fire was not lit and despite still wearing his coat Brownly was looking a little blue about the gills. Mrs Merion must have orders to make the poor man as uncomfortable as possible, so he would leave as soon as possible. This did not suit my purposes.

I marched into the room and surveyed it with my nose in the air. ‘Robbins,’ I said, ‘send a maid to light the fire. I cannot possible sit in a chilled room. We will also all require tea to keep us warm until the fire does its job.’ I stood in front of the chair. ‘This chair also requires padding. Either that or have it changed at once!’

The chief inspector, who was in the process of rising to greet me, offered me his hand with a smile. ‘Very well said, your highness.’

‘And quickly,’ I said over my shoulder, ‘I have no desire to stand here like an ornamental coat hanger!’

Both chair and tea were quickly fetched, and after a small, very frightened maid had laid and lit a fire, I settled down to be interviewed.

The interview proceeded as one might imagine. Where was I? Did I hear anything? All the very basic stuff to which I could offer no real insight. When the chief inspector asked me about the fight between Richenda and Lady Stapleford I dutifully repeated what she had ‘told me in confidence.’

‘I am afraid your Highness that I am beginning to come to the conclusion that Lady Stapleford did die of natural causes. If poison is found in her body I may even be looking at self-harm. An aging beauty, widowed, and without financial means to support herself in the life to which she was once accustomed, made to sit through the glorious wedding of a stepdaughter that she does not particularly like. It would be enough to drive some ladies to desperate measures.’

‘I do not think Lady Stapleford was like that at all,’ I said sharply. I could see the chief inspector had come up with neat scenario to extricate himself from this situation.

‘But then you did not really know her, did you, your Highness? A passing acquaintance through her stepdaughter. You had not even met until recently, had you?’

Damn Richenda and her schemes!

‘Sir Richard has confided to us that his stepmother had been in poor spirits since the death of his father.’

‘And her son?’ I asked.

‘Regrettably, the doctor feels Mr Bertram Stapleford is not up to answering questions at this time.’

I took an involuntary gasp of breath. ‘He will recover, won’t he?’

Brownly smiled. ‘Dr Threep is confident of a full recovery provided the patient has full rest and quiet.’

Oh, this was all turning out very conveniently for the murderer. ‘Did you check her bell was in order?’ I asked. I stammered and blushed under his gaze. ‘It occurred to me that Lady Stapleford would have called for help.’

‘Presuming it was murder,’ said Brownly.

‘Indeed, if the bell was not working that would prove someone else was involved.’

The chief inspector sat back in his hair and gave me a tired smile. ‘It may surprise you to hear that that thought had occurred to this humble policeman. I checked her bell first thing this morning. Robbins assures me it rang in the servants’ hall.’

I opened and closed my mouth several times before I could find my voice. ‘What if the murderer has fixed it,’ I finally offered. Even I knew this sounded weak.

The chief inspector got up and rang the bell. Robbins dutifully appeared. ‘Could you confirm to this young lady that the bell in Lady Stapleford’s room was indeed working on the night of her demise? And that it was still working when we tried it this morning?’

‘I can assure your Highness,’ Robbins gave my title emphasis after Brownly’s familiarity, ‘that all the bells are tested before the guests arrive. The chief inspector this morning with the help of this sergeant’ – I finally noticed a small blue uniformed man in the corner with a notepad – ‘tested the bell to our mutual satisfaction.’

‘Thank you, Robbins,’ said Brownly. Once the door had shut behind the butler he said, ‘I don’t want you to think that we will be making a great deal out of Lady Stapleford’s –er–’

‘Suicide,’ I said starkly, ‘that’s what you are implying.’

‘I am sure I can persuade the corner that it was death by misadventure.’

‘But what if Richenda is telling the truth and her mother had learned something terrible about her fiancée?

‘Can I just stop you there, your Highness,’ interrupted Brownly, ‘only I’d be very careful about throwing accusations around. People are liable to take offence. Slander is a criminal offence.’

I was so angry I flounced out of the room without bidding the wretched man farewell. All I could think was how Bertram would react to the generally held, but unspoken belief, that his mother had killed herself. I feared it would worsen his condition. Tears pricked at my eyes. It might even prove too much for his constitution. I had to find out what Lady Stapleford knew, but how?

______________

11
I did this once when I was six with a small playmate who had broken my favourite doll. My mother made me eat in the cowshed for a week and gave me nothing but gruel. This was the last time I had felt quite so angry.

Chapter Twenty-seven
Council of War

I exited only to walk literally into Rory. ‘Goodness, Rory, what are you doing standing around in the middle of the corridor.’

‘I’m waiting for you Ma’am.’ He lowered his voice, ‘in public you must call me McLeod.’

‘Alright, McLeod,’ I said looking up at him and smiling, ‘you’re looking rather stern. Is anything wrong?’

‘I am looking at you in the way a butler must regard a lady with dignity and respect.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said looking up and down the corridor and I threw my arms around his neck. These were immediately removed. ‘Don’t be foolish,’ said Rory. ‘I have been sent to escort you to Mr Bertram’s room. He wishes to know how your police interview went.’

‘Is he well enough for that?’

‘That is not my place to say, Ma’am,’ said Rory and began to lead the way. I stood still watching him retreat for a few moments. I was not sure if he was teasing me about the whole servant and lady business or if he had something on his mind. Rory could be the most eloquent of entertaining speakers, but, as with most men, trying to get him to tell you what he was thinking was akin to opening an oyster with a knife made of jelly. As he reached the end of the corridor I scampered after him. I could find Bertram’s room on my own, but only if I went back to the main staircase at the entrance and started from there. Doubtless Rory already knew his way around the complex corridors and passageways of the Court.

I found Bertram sitting up in bed, wearing a garish embroidered jacket and a pale demeanour. ‘Where’s Merry?’ he snapped as Rory and I entered.

‘I’m off to find her the now, sir,’ said Rory.

‘That’s not good enough, man! I can’t have a woman in here chaperoned!’

‘But she’s been your housekeeper,’ protested Rory, ‘you must often have been a room alone together.’

Bertram reddened. ‘Well, whatever happened in the past, it isn’t fit now. Would you mind waiting outside until Merry is fetched, Euphemia. I am very sorry about this.’

Rory’s aspect became more thunderous. I acquiesced at once. Outside Rory refused my assistance in the search for Merry and insisted on bringing me a chair to sit upon. This might sound like a kind gesture, but it was done with a good helping of sulking.

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