I sipped my Madeira very sparingly, needing my head to stay clear – clear, when the very thought of what had happened still made me shake so hard my teeth rattled against the glass.
Almost certainly Matthew had been rash in suggesting we might investigate the Gräfin’s death. I had certainly been shocked at the time. After all, we had no real authority – any I might have had had been efficiently undercut by our hostess and her butler. But now I accepted that no one else in the house, not even our host, had had any idea what might and might not be appropriate in such circumstances. At very least young Clara was no longer incarcerated in the cellar she must have thought was a dungeon.
Mason had slipped out, again leaving the door slightly ajar. I could understand his desire for illicit information – it was a habit that one or two of my own colleagues found hard to break – but surely this was not a time for rumour to do its sometimes useful job. Would Cousin Barrington be offended if I got up and shut it myself?
But Matthew was already doing it, for the second time; we exchanged a smile as he sat down. Cousin Barrington, who by now appeared thoroughly exhausted and in a great deal of pain, looked almost helplessly from one of us to the other. I sensed I dare not offer anything resembling sympathy. But a silence was growing.
‘Mason was right, was he not? Venturing out tonight would be very dangerous indeed,’ I observed quietly.
‘By Jove, yes. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to, but you never know – servants and sweethearts and such. Can’t have them risking it tonight. I’ll tell Biddlestone to bar all the doors. And,’ he added, ‘in the circumstances, if anyone wants to come in, I’ll get the night staff to record their name. You never know – they might have seen something out there. Seen someone. That sort of thing.’
‘What a good idea,’ Matthew said. ‘We can question them in the morning. It grieves me to say this, Cousin, but I must. You will have to question everyone. With no exceptions. I suggest Harriet speaks to Clara individually, since she acted briefly as Harriet’s maid. But somehow you have to deal with servants and guests alike. It will be a mammoth task, and will be pleasant for none of us.’
I pulled a face. ‘Since we do not know exactly what time the poor lady died, it may also be necessary for you to speak to the guests who fled in the face of the storm – as and when we can reach them. Oh, dear …’ I straightened my shoulders. ‘Oh, with luck, by that time the local constabulary will surely have taken over the investigation and we will no longer be involved in such … intrusive … work.’
Cousin Barrington gawped. ‘My dear Cousin Harriet, you cannot – Matthew cannot – be suggesting that I involve myself in that! I’m their host! Their friend, in some cases.’ His face was a study as he realized that as the local Justice he was now absolutely required to do far more than dispense impartial punishments. He saw a way out. ‘You two – you volunteered, Matthew!’
‘Sadly, however much we want to assist you, we do not have any legal authority and you may have observed at dinner that not everyone behaves to Harriet with common decency. I dread to think how they would speak unless she had your authority as a representative of the law.’
‘Ah. That name business. Deliberate, you think?’ He tugged his moustache, looking at me as if I might exonerate the butler.
I might. But it would be harder to forgive his wife. I tried to keep my voice neutral. ‘Servants are just as sensitive to rank and breaches in the social code as members of polite society, I fear.’
‘Bad business. Very bad business. I’ll have a word with him, a strong word, when I give him his orders about locking up. Would you want to be present, to hear his apology?’
‘I’m sure his behaviour tomorrow will speak louder than any words ground out under duress. Pray forgive me, Cousin, if I retire to our bed chamber.’
He looked first at his watch then at the elegant little clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Good lord, all those people still in the dining room! At least I hope they are. How could I have forgotten? What shall I do with them?’ At first clearly distressed and embarrassed, he managed to produce a smile both cunning and amused. ‘Tell you what: you’re tired, I’m tired. Even Mason out there is tired. Let’s assume they’ll all be tired too. I’ll order them off to bed and tell them to lock their doors. How about that for an idea? Excellent. Now, if anyone is troublesome, tell them you are acting on my orders. And if you want permission to do anything, all you have to do is ask me. Yes, ask me first. I always told my troops they could do anything so long as it wasn’t stupid and as long as they’d asked me first. Understood?’
‘I hope you will find it in you to forgive me,’ Matthew said the moment he closed the door behind us.
‘For what? For bringing us here in the first place or involving us in an investigation for which we are entirely unsuited? Oh, I know we’ve helped our lovely constable and his sergeant at home, but I know every square inch of the place, and all the staff too. Not like here!’ I found myself laughing. Dear me, I must not turn into a hysterical female. For everyone’s sake. I found it turned into an expression of genuine, if dark, amusement.
Head in his hands, he sank on to the bed. ‘I’m sorry for both!’
I sat beside him, holding out my hand, which he took and clasped as if it was a lifeline. ‘I did not expect the first real snub to come from our hostess. Such a vicious one, too. And one that give licence to everyone else in the house to repeat it. That dreadful butler … But now we are here, and now we cannot go home, then I promise you I will find it easier to hunt for a killer than to sit awaiting the next drawling insult.’ The thought put steel in my spine. ‘There are in fact two matters to investigate, are there not? The poor Gräfin’s death and, less important but still intriguing, why your cousin deliberately lost the match.’
‘Was it Barrington or Jameson? For all that he just said about his being in charge, everyone seems to agree with my view that my cousin was captain in name only, that Jameson made all the decisions.’
‘Especially the highly questionable ones. What a loathsome man. Two in one house! I would say this to no one but you, but had he been murdered I could name six or seven suspects, myself included.’
‘And me! I do not know, I really do not, how I did not break his nose or his jaw or both.’
‘But you didn’t. And I am so proud of you. But, my love, you will have to probe carefully but very deeply when you talk to your cousin tomorrow.’
His anguish was replaced by a cunning smile. ‘Me talk to him! He is very taken with you and would surely reveal more than he would to me – especially if you feign complete ignorance of cricket.’
‘As John Coachman says when he thinks I’m not listening, That cock won’t fight! My love of the game is known – Lord Webbe has already asked me to teach him to bowl. I referred him to you, naturally.’
‘Ah! Webbe. The tactful Webbe who revealed something even I did not know. More hair than wit, as the Bard would say.’ He looked at me quizzically.
‘If I did not know it, I would be surprised if you did,’ I retorted. I could not stop a smile at the thought that the young man to whom I had spent hours bowling remembered me. Though I never imagined that now Gussie was Lord Halesowen, the High Court judge, he might consider me anything other than a helpful servant.
‘ “One of his most trusted advisers when they were young”,’ he said, kissing my hand. ‘I am honoured that you are my most trusted adviser in my middle years. And will be as long as we live.’ Suddenly his face changed. ‘Unless young Webbe tells Lord Halesowen where you are and he turns up to claim you!’
It took me a moment to realize that he was serious. ‘On a white charger, I hope! I would accept nothing less! Let us hope that his name-dropping will make tomorrow’s task easier.’ I got up to wash my face before the water in the ewer went cold. It could not, because there was no water. No soap, no towels and no chamber pot. Since the house had no running water and consequently no water closets, if we did not ring for a servant, we would have to trek down the puddled path to the privy at the far end of the garden. ‘Matthew, are those sheets aired?’
He grimaced. ‘I fancy they are the ones we used to dry ourselves earlier.’
‘In that case you might be about to see me lose my temper.’ I rang the bell.
There would have been something particularly satisfying in requiring Mr Biddlestone personally to make good the omissions of his now sleeping juniors. In the event, of course, he roused Mrs Simpkiss, who brought with her two weary housemaids. All were in their nightclothes, and all oozed resentment. The two youngsters received generous tips. I was tempted to let Mrs Simpkiss content herself with the sort of bow I once practised on tradesmen trying to cheat the household. Suddenly, however, I recalled – from my own experiences – that it is often poor mistresses that make servants unhappy and bitter. So as she left I followed her into the corridor.
‘Goodness knows how you achieved all you did today,’ I said, taking a big risk. ‘Of course some things go wrong – but few people know the effort it takes to get most things right.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right there. I don’t know how …’ She shook her head, almost in tears. ‘It was almost as if—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘No. I’m imagining things. It’s my habit to check every room. But today … And of course Clara should have—’ She sniffed. ‘But who would …? I will enquire, Mrs – er—’ She blushed.
‘Mrs Rowsley,’ I supplied clearly. ‘Let us worry about this tomorrow, Mrs Simpkiss. Perhaps you and I might drink a cup of tea together when you have a moment to spare. I usually find some time between ten and eleven is quietest, but of course tomorrow is the Sabbath, with all the complications that brings to a household’s timetable.’
She snorted. ‘With compulsory church twice a day on top. And the floods! I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels, ma’am, and that’s God’s truth.’
‘And here am I keeping you from your bed. Good night and God bless you.’
We exchanged a smile, perhaps wary on her part, before I returned to our room, closing the door softly behind me. I found myself stepping straight into Matthew’s arms.
‘You did well there, my love. It sounded as if you won her over.’
‘I’m not sure. One smile does not an ally make.’
Despite his apparent confidence, Matthew was already seated at the dressing table when I awoke next morning. Although the peacock had been mercifully silent – perhaps the rain had rendered his grand tail unusable – neither of us had slept well, but I had clearly done better than he. Swathing myself in my dressing-gown – who knew what time our hot water might arrive – I threw open the curtains, to reveal a still partly water-logged landscape. The sun shone encouragingly – but at home the Thorncroft gardeners would have sucked their teeth claiming it was too bright too early, and that those tiny puffs on the horizon might grow into storm clouds. I had a suspicion that the quiet of the still silent house might similarly metamorphose. Moving away from the window I looked over Matthew’s shoulder. Like me, he liked to try to marshal his thoughts using headed notes, augmented by a set of asterisks and arrows.
‘Where do I start?’ he demanded.
‘Is that a real question or a rhetorical one?’ I kissed the top of his head. ‘If you really don’t know where to start, I’d have Cousin Barrington roused early so we can have what he might call a council of war. He’s spent his life organizing people. He wants to be in charge so let him really be in charge of the hows and whens, even if we have to supply the whys. He alone has the authority to confine his guests and servants – we really do have none at all here, even if he gives us permission to do something. Let me see – it’s six-thirty. The staff are on duty already. Let us ring for our hot water and send a message to him.’