03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court Read online

  Rose refrained from comment. Later, as she became better acquainted with the heiress, what became apparent was that, while Emmeline might put upon Jemima, she considered her to be a confidante rather than just an upper servant.

  ‘Oh well,’ continued Lavinia, sighing prettily, ‘I suppose there is nothing for it but that a place must be laid for Jemima at table for dinner and she be given one of the better guest rooms.’ She smiled as a thought struck her. ‘I say, Rose, it’s jolly fortunate that the little bedroom next to Emmeline’s grand one while rather small is elegantly furnished. Quite the thing.’

  Rose had at first been somewhat surprised at the level of hostility Lavinia felt towards Jemima who, at worst as far as she could see, was insipid and a little boring. But after analysing Lavinia’s dislike of the girl more thoroughly, she realised her friend was simply jealous of the girl’s friendship with the heiress. It might be Lavinia that Emmeline was having fun with, laughing and giggling together at some trivial matter with Jemima in the background merely looking on, but it was her friend-cum-companion’s advice and opinion that Emmeline sought, not Lavinia’s.

  Next to arrive had been Felix Thistlewaite, a pleasant-looking, freckled face young man with sandy coloured hair, which seemed to insist on standing up on end, making him look a little dishevelled. His valet or manservant, if indeed he had one, had obviously not made a good job of turning him out. But the overall effect made him look interesting and slightly eccentric rather than not groomed. Rose, looking at his clothes more closely, noticed that while his tweed jacket had been darned in one or two places and was a bit antiquated as to cut, it had once been very good. As the days went on and she saw more of his clothing, she noticed that they were all in a similar condition, and wondered if they had been borrowed or inherited from some relative. Certainly they did not fit him particularly well, for they had a tendency to be too big on the shoulder. But if the young man was embarrassed by his appearance, he did not show it.

  ‘I say, Lavinia, it’s quite a place you’ve got here. Have the others arrived yet?’ Felix Thistlewaite cast his gaze around and Rose wondered if he was looking for one person in particular or whether he was referring to the Continent party as a whole. Certainly his glance appeared anxious, possibly nervous, which was at variance with his otherwise relaxed demeanour.

  The final guest to arrive had been Count Fernand who had cut quite a figure, not least by his rather bizarre appearance. Lavinia, Cedric and Rose had all happened to be in the hall when he had arrived and so were present to see him enter dressed in full top hat and tails despite it being only mid-afternoon. That in itself was unusual but would not have caused any one of them to catch their breath. What had was that the man wore a waistcoat of scarlet crushed velvet and a full length black cape or cloak which almost touched the ground, and was lined with a vivid crimson silk.

  On seeing that he had an audience of sorts, the count had unfastened his cloak himself and swirled it in the air much in the style of a matador trying to attract the attention of a bull. Instinctively, as one, they had all taken a step backwards, almost as if they had been afraid a bull would miraculously appear out of thin air, or perhaps more reasonably that they would be struck by the swishing cloak as it cut this way and that through the air under the control of the count’s dextrous fingers. Notwithstanding this, Count Fernand made compelling viewing, and even Cedric and Rose who both considered the theatricals to be a little absurd, looked on intrigued and not a little bewitched by his performance.

  It would all have been rather comical or ridiculous, Rose thought, had the count not been so very tall and handsome, and had not the rather strange attire suited him superbly. The man himself looked nothing less than exotic. Cedric was tall, but this man was taller still. His hair was so black that it had a blue sheen to it and his skin, slightly olive in hue, contrasted well with the whiteness of his shirt. There was a thumb length scar on his right cheek which gave his face a slightly roguish air, adding greatly to the sense of mystery and perhaps even a touch of danger, which seemed to exude from him. Certainly, Rose thought, as a figure of a man he could be nothing but admired. Even so, it became apparent that her view was not shared by all, for she was standing close enough to Cedric to hear him whisper a shocked and rather disgusted ‘Good Lord!’ under his breath. The spell was broken and she bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. She hoped desperately that the count had not overheard his host, although the man himself appeared to be currently engaged in profuse bowing to his hostess, finished by the brush of his lips on her hand, the result of which had Lavinia in raptures, giggling away very prettily.

  Rose was curious to see how Count Fernand would be received by the rest of the party, both by those with whom he was already acquainted, and by those to whom he was a stranger. She trailed behind him as they entered the drawing room. Cedric, she saw, was very inclined to fall back and walk with her, but as host felt obliged to lead the way. The count at once made his way across the room to Vera and gave a spectacular bow before kissing her hand. Vera in turn gave a startled “Oh!” and withdrew her hand as if it had been stung by a wasp. Felix Thistlewaite, Rose noticed, was trying hard not to laugh. If the count was disappointed by Vera’s reaction to his greeting, he did not show it but instead proceeded to bow to the rest of the party in his unique flamboyant way.

  Theo Harrison, Vera’s fiancé, merely raised his eyebrows and frowned slightly but otherwise looked unperturbed and, if anything, rather bored. Rose remembered Lavinia’s description of him as being rather handsome in a country doctor sort of way. She was inclined to agree with her. Physically he was not as imposing as either Cedric or Count Fernand, being only of average height, but his features were even and regular, and the country air had given him a healthy glow. His well-cut tweed jacket and flannels fitted him well and suited both him and his surroundings admirably. He might not have the ostentatious dress of the count, or such an extravagant manner, but there was something quietly steady and authoritative about him all the same that demanded respect. Rose envisaged that his bedside manner was likely to be very good, firm but kind and perhaps more importantly reassuring. She imagined he was well-liked and respected by his patients in equal measure. It did not surprise her in the least therefore that Vera should hold him in such high esteem and love him in such a doting way.

  Count Fernand had been exuberant in his greetings of everyone, but particularly the women. Rose herself had not been neglected for she had received her share of elaborate bows and had her hand kissed fervently. But she was aware also that the count’s eyes seemed to comb the room as if he were looking for someone in particular who was not present. Felix had behaved in a similar manner when he had entered the drawing room a couple of hours before. The only members of the party missing were Emmeline and Jemima, who had withdrawn to their rooms shortly after their arrival on the pretext of having a rest and a wash after their journey. Now she reflected upon it, Rose remembered overhearing Felix asking Lavinia where they were, a little while before the count’s arrival. She told herself that she should not read too much into this, this desire to see the heiress and her companion. It was after all to be expected and hardly very surprising if one thought about it, for of course they must all have become well-acquainted during their stay on the Continent.

  Rose wondered afterwards, as she had wondered about Lavinia’s sudden arrival, whether thinking of them, rather than just coincidence, had caused the two women to join them at the very moment that they did. It was just as Vera, having sat down in an armchair as far away from the count as possible, was idly turning the pages of some magazine and was therefore distracted. Theo on the other hand, having earlier become rather bored with the conversations and gone to the window to look out, had turned at the sound of the door opening and glanced back into the room.

  Before they entered the room, the women’s footsteps were heard in the hall, and at once both Count Fernand and Felix had looked up expectantly. Their air of anticipation seemed to hav
e been picked up by the rest of the room as if it were contagious. For everyone else, with the exception of Vera, stopped what they were doing, not in a sudden, abrupt way, but more coming to a dwindling stop. People took a step or two away from each other, the better to turn around and study the door, and conversations that had begun faltered and faded in an awkward, embarrassed sort of way as if the speaker had suddenly became aware that his listeners had become less attentive or interested in what he had to say. Their attention was being drawn instead to something more fascinating behind his shoulder.

  So it was that when the door finally opened the two newcomers found that all eyes were turned on them as if it were supposed that they might create a more spectacular sight than even the count in all his finery. In addition to this, the room was in almost complete silence, save only for the noise of Vera flicking the pages of her magazine, apparently oblivious to everything and everyone else.

  Emmeline entered the room first somewhat apprehensively, followed by Jemima in her wake, as if she were her bridesmaid carrying her train. Emmeline made a very pretty sight, if not quite so bizarre a one as the count. She wore an elaborately embroidered silk and velvet dress and appeared quite as beautiful as Lavinia, with dark chestnut locks compared with Lavinia’s fair ones. Her eyes were shining and she was clearly delighted to see again the friends she had made on the Continent, and to make new acquaintances.

  There was an openness about Emmeline’s manner which was engaging. After an initial, awkward silence, she laughed her infectious little laugh and the tension and apprehension in the room was broken. The room was relieved. Conversations were resumed and the silence that had momentarily filled the room retreated to the edges. It was almost as if there had been no waiting, no nervous anticipation in the room. Almost, but not quite.

  It was true that the count was now happily engaged in conversation with Emmeline and, after pausing for a moment, Felix likewise had made his way to Jemima and was talking to her earnestly, so that the majority of the party were taken up with talking or listening to one person or another. But Rose was still aware of a strong energy in the room, as sharp as anticipation and suppressed excitement. She looked around and her eyes alighted on Theo Harrison standing alone by the window, sufficiently removed from the others so as not to be obliged to enter into any of the various conversations. What arrested her attention was the frozen look upon his face. She noticed also that he was clutching the window frame as if for support. Rose followed his gaze to see what had affected him so deeply, to see what he found so very fascinating that he stood transfixed as if he no longer knew where he was and was oblivious to those around him. A quick look around the room reassured her that no one else had noticed that he was looking peculiar. And then she identified the one person whose presence he acknowledged, the one person who had arrested his attentions and caused him to stare dumbfounded. For his eyes were fixed on Emmeline Montacute, so intently that surely he saw no one else.

  Rose studied Emmeline closely. On the surface she appeared to be giving her full attention to Count Fernand, listening with enthusiasm to whatever it was that he was telling her, smiling, laughing, and saying the odd word of encouragement in the appropriate place. But her eyes were not on the count, at least not exclusively so, for every now and then her gaze wandered, darting back and forth between Count Fernand and Theo Harrison. To Rose she seemed very aware of the doctor’s presence. The expression on her face remained unchanged, but Rose noticed that her skin glowed a becoming shade and she imagined that the girl’s heart was beating faster, as if her attention had been caught by something of far more importance than the general chatter in the room. It was as if a sudden connection had sprung up between the heiress and the doctor that had them both bewitched. Time might indeed have stood still for all the attention they gave it, and they might as well have been the only two people in the room for all the notice they took of the others.

  They only have eyes for each other. As soon as Rose was struck by this thought she looked instinctively towards Vera to see if she had noticed anything untoward. But Vera was still engrossed in her magazine. She had been upset, Rose recollected, when first told of Emmeline’s imminent arrival at Sedgwick, yet now here she sat calmly, turning the pages of her magazine as if she had not a care in the world. Rose gasped inwardly. Whatever Vera had been afraid of, she was sure that it had not been this. She stared at Vera, willing the woman to look up and yet at the same time praying that she did not. But Vera continued to read, her head bent over the page, blissfully unaware that her world was about to fall apart.

  Chapter Five

  ‘So you see,’ Vera was saying, ‘poor Theo just can’t help himself, trying to ingratiate himself with someone like Emmeline Montacute.’

  Vera gave a little laugh which even to Rose sounded false, as if she were trying to make light of something that was upsetting her a great deal. It was the day after the arrival of the party from the Continent and they were sitting in the drawing room having afternoon tea, their eyes drawn to the lively discussion going on between the doctor and the heiress.

  Emmeline, who it must be said had a general tendency to giggle at any opportunity, was laughing happily at whatever Theo was telling her. Theo in turn appeared to be basking in her attentions, his face quite animated. Rose, although she had made a conscious effort to try not to, had been unable to tear herself away from watching the relationship developing between Theo and Emmeline. Both parties had been tentative at first, each almost going out of their way to avoid eye contact, but following dinner that first night, it appeared that they had both lost a little of their reserve and had seemed to gravitate towards each other in the drawing room over coffee almost unwittingly. They were like moths drawn to a light, as if an invisible thread were pulling them unwillingly together, or at the very least, something beyond their control.

  ‘He thinks that he should like so very much to be a fashionable doctor, whereas I just know that he would simply hate it,’ continued Vera, drawing her chair closer to Rose’s so that they might not be overheard.

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘He’s much better suited to being a country doctor, you know, but he just can’t see it. I daresay it would be very grand to have consulting rooms in Harley Street and name the aristocracy among one’s patients, but really it isn’t Theo. He would never be happy just scolding mothers and daughters who overdo it in the London season, or patting the hand of Lady So-and-So who fancies she has a temperature or is feeling unwell when there is absolutely nothing wrong with her at all. Theo is not the sort of doctor who would be content to prescribe some harmless tonic at some outrageous sum.’ Vera paused to sigh and give a smug little smile. ‘No, he wouldn’t be satisfied at all. Because you see, medicine really is his thing. He wants to treat real illnesses that affect ordinary people.’

  This was at such variance to what Vera had said to her two days before that Rose was quite at a loss as to how best to answer. She opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it. For, although it had occurred to her to point out that Vera was contradicting what she had said previously, she was reminded of the condition in which she had found Vera awaiting her in the hall that day. The woman had been clearly distressed and distracted and she did not wish to say anything that would induce a relapse. But this time Vera was wanting some encouragement before proceeding with her tale, and was looking at Rose expectantly for just such a response. Rose dragged her mind back from contemplating Vera’s previous agitated state to the present conversation, which in all honesty she had only been listening to with half an ear.

  ‘And a country practice offers that?’ Rose said at last. ‘Real illnesses?’

  ‘Oh, yes indeed. You get all sorts of illness in a village such as Sedgwick, because you get people from all walks of life. And you don’t know how good it makes Theo feel, to make a real difference. He was able to save Mr Collins’s arm. It has healed quite nicely, with no more lasting damage to it than a ghastly scar, which is just as well
as Collins has nine mouths to feed. He’s a stone mason by way of trade and needs two arms to carry out that job.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he does. Tell me, Vera, have you always lived in Sedgwick?’

  ‘Yes, and so has Theo, even if he has the air about him of someone who has grown up in town. But we’ve both lived here all our lives. Theo’s father was the village doctor and his father before him. Daddy came to Sedgwick a year or two before I was born, and has been ministering to his flock here ever since.’

  Further discussion on the subject was prevented by the arrival of Lavinia, who insisted that they should all go for a walk in the grounds while there was still some light. Rose in truth was relieved to have an excuse to escape Vera’s company. It was not so much that she disliked the woman, more that she felt ill at ease in her presence. Was Vera really blind to the true nature of the relationship developing between Emmeline and Theo? She certainly acted as if she were, not seeing what was being played out blatantly before her very eyes and indeed, unfortunately, was becoming increasingly apparent to everyone else. Perhaps she was intentionally deluding herself, Rose thought, desperately clinging to the notion that Theo’s only interest in Emmeline was that of a potential patient of standing who might be useful in furthering his career. Or was Vera well aware of what was going on, and had consciously chosen to ignore the situation and pretend to be ignorant?

  They set forth as a group, Cedric in front pointing out the ha-has, the various lakes which appeared as one, and the follies dotted around the estate, much as he had done when he had shown them to Rose. She felt a sudden stab of regret that it was not just the two of them walking through the grounds, with perhaps Vera and Theo trailing slowly behind. To be alone here at Sedgwick with Cedric she realised suddenly was what she wanted more than anything in the world. She didn’t want to share him with the others, to stand back while he played the jovial host. Why, oh why, had Lavinia seen the need to bring these friends back with her, to expect Cedric to fall in with her wishes and entertain them?