02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall Read online

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Josephine said, quickly. ‘Oh just ignore me, I was just being silly, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it. Goodness, how very serious we’ve both become. Now, let’s talk about something else, shall we? This weekend for instance. I’m really looking forward to it, aren’t you? It will be nice to have a house party for a change, although I have to admit I’m glad that it’ll only be a small gathering. And you’ll be able to talk to Cedric about Oxford, won’t you?’

  Hallam looked relieved and happily chattered about his planned entertainment for the weekend, Josephine nodding every now and then encouragingly, appearing equally engrossed in their conversation. Had Hallam bothered to look at his sister more closely though, he would have seen how she picked nervously at a loose thread on her skirt, and fidgeted in her seat as if she could not get comfortable, and that there lingered about her a certain air of sadness, which she was trying hard to conceal.

  Chapter Two

  Rose was relieved. The train had arrived on time and the journey itself had been uneventful. She had sat back in her carriage, her eyes half shut as she had gone through in her mind the various items that she had just packed, reassuring herself that she had forgotten nothing, or at least nothing of great significance. It was a pity, she thought, that for dinner tonight she would be reduced to wearing again her black, silk velvet, bias-cut dress. She had worn this same dress on two occasions at Ashgrove, although she was fairly confident that Cedric would not remember. He had also assured her in his letters that the Honourable Josephine Atherton was not a girl to follow fashions, preferring instead to dress in country tweeds. Rose was therefore hopeful that Josephine might be wearing a similar outfit to her own. She would however have a new dress to wear for dinner on the Saturday night. Her mother, a skilled dressmaker, had insisted. She had set to and made one from three leftover pieces of silk satin material from the gowns of three of her more affluent customers. Three pieces of material, two of different shades of blue and the other one of silver, had been combined into a simple entwined design. The dress itself was backless, as was the rage, and was quite simply the most exquisite and daring gown Rose had ever owned. She only hoped that she would have the nerve to wear it.

  Her thoughts drifted to reflect on those who would be present at the house party in addition to herself and Cedric. It was with relief that Cedric had written that it was to be a very small house party and that the Athertons were old family friends who were unlikely to ask her any awkward questions concerning the events that had occurred at Ashgrove House.

  She thought it likely that she would get on well with Josephine who, by all accounts, was quiet and unassuming, content to keep house for her father and involve herself with church bazaars and other such charitable causes. The Honourable Hallam Atherton, only son of Baron Atherton and three years’ Cedric’s junior, had just started at Oxford whereas Cedric had just finished. Cedric spoke of him with warmth, saying he had a simple, kindly disposition and was devoted to, and teased and mollycoddled by, his two older sisters. It had been obvious from Cedric’s letters, although she thought not intentionally so, that of the two sisters he preferred the older, Josephine. From what she could tell, Isabella was very similar to Lavinia, and now that she and Lavinia were estranged, she could not help but be relieved that there appeared some doubt as to whether or not Isabella would be coming to Dareswick.

  When she arrived at the station, Rose considered it prudent for appearance’s sake to engage a porter to carry her case to the entrance rather than try to wrestle with it herself. She was pleased she had done so, for she was greeted almost immediately at the station door by the Atherton’s chauffeur, Brimshaw, a rather attractive young man, who took her luggage and put it straight into the boot of a black Rolls-Royce Barker. Rose sank back into the luxurious tan leather seats.

  ‘Miss Josephine asks me to convey her apologies for not being here to meet you, miss,’ Brimshaw said over his shoulder, as they set off, Rose leaning forward to hear his words over the noise of the engine. ‘It seems Miss Isabella will be coming down this weekend after all, and that she’ll be bringing a friend with her, although apparently there is some confusion as to whether it will be a young lady or a young gentleman. So Miss Josephine’s with Mrs Hodges now, she’s the housekeeper, miss, trying to decide which bedroom to get ready for the visitor.’

  ‘I see, well not to worry. It’s very nice being met by a chauffeur-driven car.’ Secretly, Rose was more concerned at the absence of Cedric. She wondered why he wasn’t there to meet her himself. She had assumed that he would have made sure that he was at Dareswick ahead of her arrival. It occurred to her then that he might have had second thoughts about seeing her again. Perhaps she would arrive at Dareswick Hall only to be sent home again. Perhaps… No, she mustn’t think like that. She forced herself to put the idea at the back of her mind and engage in conversation. ‘I say, is it very far to Dareswick Hall?’

  ‘Only about five miles, miss, but we have to go along some very steep and windy country roads so it’ll seem a little longer as we’ll have to take some of the roads slowly like.’

  Rose sat back in her seat and reflected. So Isabella was going to be there after all. She knew that she was being unreasonable to resent Isabella’s presence this weekend. But she wanted as few people to be there as possible when she and Cedric met again. She wondered whether they would have a chance to snatch a few moments together before they were obliged to dress for dinner and join the others. She looked at the back of Brimshaw’s head and then leaned forward in order to speak to him. The fact that she would not have to look him in the face when she asked her question, gave her the courage she needed to ask it, even so she could not help blushing.

  ‘Has Viscount Sedg… the Earl of Belvedere arrived yet?’

  ‘No miss, although his arrival is expected imminently. He’s driving down from Sedgwick Court, I believe, and had hoped that he might be here to meet you off the train in person. But he hadn’t turned up and Miss Josephine thought it better not to wait any longer. She didn’t want you to be left hanging around at the station so she asked me to come and meet you.’

  It seemed to Rose that, while they were talking, the roads had become very narrow and windy indeed, in some places seeming little more than tracks.

  ‘Is Dareswick Hall very out of the way?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye, it is, miss, quite out in the sticks. On occasion, when we’ve had bad weather, we’ve been completely snowed in and not seen a soul for weeks. But it’s a grand place and I wouldn’t work anywhere else not for love nor money.’

  In the end they came to Dareswick Hall abruptly. The car had turned a sharp corner and Rose had been fully prepared for their journey to continue when there it was, a classic redbrick Georgian mansion standing behind massive wrought iron gates with a long tree-lined driveway leading up to the house. At first glance, Dareswick Hall reminded her of Ashgrove House, and she could not help but take a sharp intake of breath. However, it seemed to be built on a grander scale, with the overall effect being one of splendour, being six-bayed to Ashgrove’s five, and its eighteenth century origin from first glance appeared unspoilt by Victorian extensions and alterations. Later she was to discover in the course of her various conversations with Josephine that the only contribution made by the Victorians to the Hall had been the large and exuberantly planted rose and vegetable gardens. Like Ashgrove, she saw that Dareswick consisted of some three storeys in addition to the basement which housed the kitchen and servants’ working quarters, and the attics which housed their bedrooms.

  She hardly had time to take in the splendour of Dareswick Hall’s façade before the car was brought to a smooth stop in front of the house by the chauffeur. Her car door was opened for her and she found herself ushered towards the front door. For one brief moment she looked back over her shoulder and saw that Brimshaw had opened the boot and a footman was gathering up her case. Almost immediately, however, her attention was diverted back to the front doo
r due to the exclamation of welcome uttered by a woman a few years older than herself, accompanied by a rather stout butler of less than middling height.

  ‘I say, I’m awfully sorry that I wasn’t there to meet you at the station,’ the girl said hurriedly, rushing over and shaking hands. ‘Jolly rude and all that, but I do hope you’ll forgive me. There was a bit of a bedroom crisis. My sister, Isabella, has decided to bring a friend with her this weekend and we’re not sure whether it’s one of her girlfriend’s or a gentleman. It put our housekeeper, Mrs Hodges, in rather a quandary, I can tell you. Still, I think we’ve sorted everything out now, although it’s meant getting two bedrooms ready just to be on the safe side. Oh dear, and how very rude of me, Miss Simpson, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Josephine Atherton; may I call you Rose?’

  Josephine Atherton was dressed in a plain white blouse and a rather shabby tweed skirt and, unless Rose was mistaken, there was a small ladder in one of her stockings. Although she had a nice face, she could scarcely be described as beautiful let alone pretty. Rose felt that the same could very easily be said about herself and this, together with Josephine’s pleasant and unassuming manner, and the informality of her greeting, helped to put her at her ease.

  ‘Cedric’s just parking his car in the old stables,’ Josephine said, linking her arm through Rose’s and leading her into the hall. ‘He was so disappointed not to be there to greet you at the station but he was caught up in some estate business at Sedgwick, I believe, which delayed his departure. Now do let me introduce you to my little brother, Hallam. Although I expect he’s gone off with Cedric; they’ve got loads of catching up to do and I expect he wants to tell him all about how he’s finding Oxford. Cedric’s graduated now, hasn’t he? I say, do you fancy taking a turn around the garden, Rose, while we’re waiting for the boys to join us? It’s still quite warm for the time of year and not quite dusk so we should just about be able to see where we’re going. And besides, I’ve been stuck indoors all day with this and that. Well, of course you have too, haven’t you, working in your dress shop?’

  It was late September when dusk seemed to range from anytime between six o’clock and seven o’clock in the evening, and although it was not far off seven, there was still sufficient daylight left for Rose to take in the formal gardens. Following the abnormal rains experienced in mid-July, Dareswick’s gardeners had taken advantage of the mellow autumn to make a start on clearing away the remains of the summer flower gardens, and had commenced bulb planting in earnest. It gave the gardens a transitional air as if they were waiting for something to happen.

  ‘We’re planting British-grown bulbs for the first time,’ Josephine informed Rose. ‘You know, stimulating a new home industry. Tedson, our head gardener, got most of ours from the West Country. We’ve always bought imported bulbs before, but he assures me that British bulbs are now just as good and in many respects superior. I’ve yet to be fully convinced, though, because as I told him I thought the bulbs looked a jolly lot smaller. But Tedson says they are heavier and more solid than imported ones and that they’ll produce a better bloom….’

  Rose found herself only half listening to what Josephine was saying, unable to prevent herself from glancing up every now and then, eager to catch her first glimpse of Cedric. She was reminded that she had first laid eyes on him when she had been strolling in a garden very like this one. It had been a summer’s day then, and everything had been bright and seemed to shine. She had looked up and seen him, and in that moment everything had seemed to stand still. She had found both his looks and the unaffected way in which he had engaged with the Withers’ servants mesmerising.

  ‘… he says British bulbs are likely to flower earlier too,’ continued Josephine, apparently oblivious to the fact that her words were falling on to almost deaf ears, ‘than imported ones, I mean.’ She lowered her voice suddenly, as if she was talking only to herself. ‘Of course, I won’t be here to see if he’s right, what a pity…’

  ‘You won’t be here?’ enquired Rose, reluctantly rousing herself from her daydreaming and trying to show some interest in what her companion was saying, although the practicalities of gardening had rarely concerned her. She had been content instead just to look at the finished effect. ‘Are you going away then?’

  ‘What? No… of course not.’ Was it her imagination or did Josephine appear unduly flustered? Certainly there had been alarm in her voice, if Rose was not mistaken. ‘No, no. Why would I go away? I live here, I’m always here. Always will be, I expect.’

  ‘It’s just that you said –.’

  ‘Yes, how silly of me, just ignore me. I do talk a lot of old rot sometimes. I’m so used to talking to myself you see, when Father’s in town and Hallam’s at Oxford, there’s often no one to talk to but the servants. Now what was I saying? Oh yes, Tedson’s going to hold over planting the tulip bulbs until next month. And the hyacinths too, although we’ll still import those, of course, we won’t get them from the West Country….’

  Rose let her mind slip on to other things. She was beginning to feel rather sick with apprehension. What if Cedric was not as she remembered him? What if her recollections of him were flawed and unreliable? Worse, what if she was not as he remembered. What if when he looked at her she saw only disappointment in his eyes? It had been a very strange weekend after all at Ashgrove, even before the murder had taken place and they had all come under suspicion…

  It was only after a minute or two that Rose realised that Josephine had stopped talking and appeared to be as lost in her own thoughts as Rose was herself. The two girls strolled on together for a little while in silence, which seemed to get heavier with each step as Rose tried to think of something to say, fighting against the desire to be quiet and alone.

  ‘It’s awfully good of you to invite me for the weekend?’ She said at last. Josephine relaxed noticeably.

  ‘Not at all. We’re delighted to have you here. Any friend of Cedric’s is more than welcome any time. Poor boy, he’s been through such a lot, as of course have you. Don’t worry though, you won’t be pressed for details while you’re here. Goodness knows we’ve had enough scandal of our own recently, what with that awful business at the lake earlier this year….’

  Rose looked at Josephine enquiringly. Cedric had not told her in his letters about anything untoward having happened at Dareswick Hall. Surely if there had been anything like a murder or a suspicious death, she would have read about it in the newspapers. But before she had time to enquire into the matter further both girls became aware of Crabtree walking at a brisk pace across the grass towards them, the stoutness of his body rather reminding Rose of a penguin.

  ‘Excuse me, madam,’ the butler began, having to pause for a moment before he could continue, as he was clearly out of breath. ‘But Lord Belvedere and Mr Hallam have returned from the stables and are in the drawing room, and have been enquiring as to where you and Miss Simpson were.’

  ‘Goodness, yes, we’ve been out here rather a long time, haven’t we? It’s almost getting dark,’ Josephine said leading the way, the plump butler in her wake, trying to keep up. ‘Do come inside, Rose, and meet my brother. And of course you’ll want to see Cedric. Oh, how very remiss of me, I’ve just realised that I haven’t offered you any refreshment after your journey. I know that we’ll be going up to dress for dinner shortly, but perhaps you could be so good, Crabtree, as to arrange for Robert to bring in some tea and perhaps a few slices of one of Mrs Gooden’s very good Victoria sponges to keep us going.’

  ‘Very good, madam.’ The butler bowed briefly and departed, but not before Rose was left with the distinct impression that he considered afternoon tea at this hour not the done thing at all. Personally she was sure that she would be too nervous to eat a thing, but a nice cup of hot tea would be most welcome.

  The two men stood up as soon as the women entered. Rose barely had time to take in the double drawing room formed by two good-sized rooms, the large doors between each room open; the fi
ne Sheraton sideboard with its serpentine front; the magnificent chandelier which glittered in the light. A warm glow extended from the fireplace, the fire in which had not long been lit. She barely registered the plaster cornice that preserved the original Georgian gilding or the large marble fireplace with its early Victorian grate of polished steel and brass. She barely saw the wing chairs and sofas, richly upholstered in heavy damask, velvet or shot silk trimmed with silk fringe; or the solid parquet floor on which were a number of rich Persian rugs. She had eyes only for Cedric.

  She felt herself utter a sigh of relief for at first glance he was as she remembered him. He was still tall and slender with finely chiselled features and there was still something of the matinee idol about him. But as she rushed up to him, she was aware of subtle changes too. The blond hair that was slicked back from a side parting was peppered with a few strands of grey; gone was the tanned looking skin of summer, replaced instead with pale skin tinged with grey. She noticed too that while he smiled at her in the way he had always done, there were a few fine lines around his eyes where there had been none. The events at Ashgrove had undoubtedly taken their toll, for the man that stood before her seemed to have aged more than the two or three months that had elapsed since she had last set eyes on him.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I cannot tell you how good it is to see you at last,’ Cedric said, clasping her hands in his. After a quick cup of tea and slice of cake both Hallam and Josephine had made their excuses and left on the pretext of chores and tasks that needed completing before dinner, leaving Rose and Cedric alone at last. ‘It is the only thing that has kept me going, knowing that you are there for me and that I should see you again before too long.’