With a smile, I watched the young gentlemen, for all the world as happy and carefree as the now Lord Halesowen was when he and I spent those wonderful hours working on his batting and his bowling. At very least they meant that I had to catch and throw as well as any boy. Would anyone know if I slipped out and joined them for half an hour? They would help me scramble through the window if I asked, for all I was old enough to be their mother.
But I had said I would look at the accounts that had defeated Matthew, so look I must. I got so desperate I actually pushed back the pages as far as the spine to see if some had been cut out. I was forced, however to reach just two conclusions – that the book-keeping was incredibly lax and that an exorbitant sum had disappeared about the time that the bridge had allegedly been repaired.
Sighing, I turned back to the chart, double- and triple-checking each entry against the next. Constable Davies was right: there were many half-truths – and two half-truths never added up to a whole one. I was stumped.
Hearing the laughter outside, it occurred to me that the young cricketers had actually posed the question I should be trying to answer now: who benefited from the Gräfin’s death? The reactions of both Lady Pidgeon and Cousin Barrington when I mentioned her suggested that her ability at cards might mean she fleeced her opponents. I’d seen an IOU. What else had I found and passed straight to Constable Davies? And why had he, amenable in so many ways, so far refused to share it? Dared I hope he’d left it somewhere in this room? Dared I search for it? And of course if I found it, dared I read it?
Fortunately for my conscience, Cousin Barrington, rattling the doorknob with some irritation, demanded to know what in Hades was going on. Swiftly I admitted him, apologizing profusely.
‘And where are the men? At the bridge? What are they doing there? God bless my soul, they’ve not found another body?’
‘Not to my knowledge. It’s such a lovely morning, between ourselves I suspect they needed an excuse for a breath of fresh air. So they left me holding the fort, and I’m a bit jumpy after yesterday and … I thought I’d feel safer if I locked the fort gate, as it were.’ Though I had opened the window so my calls for help, if any, would be heard.
‘Yesterday? What about yesterday?’
I needed his sympathy, so I played a card I rarely used, I despised it so much. I would be the helpless little lady. Maybe I would even need my own vinaigrette. ‘It’s nothing. Not really. I dare say I was just being silly.’ I dabbed my eyes. ‘It was just that something reminded me of something that scared me half to death when I was a little girl. About the same age as young Clara.’
‘But you’re a grown woman now,’ he said. ‘Time you snapped out of it. Maybe some coffee will help you pull yourself together.’ Then he sat down, indicating that I was to do the same. His voice, his tone, changed completely. ‘Tell me – do things come back to you? Sounds?’
‘And smells. Certain smells.’ My shudder was genuine.
‘Bad thing, memory, sometimes. Just when you think you’ve put the lid on something, out it pops. Horrible. Ah, thank you, Mason. Just what we needed, coffee. And those biscuits look good.’
‘Some of Mrs Dabbs’ finest, sir. Might I ask if the hot bath did the trick, sir?’
‘You may and it did. Thank you, Mason.’ He smiled but the nod was a definite dismissal. He turned to me. ‘Things I don’t care to talk about either in case the genie pops out of the bottle again.’
‘Of course. May I change the subject – change it quite violently?’
He nodded.
‘This may strike you as being very trivial. But who keeps the house and estate accounts?’
He bridled. ‘And what business of yours might that be?’
‘Just that … the poor and expensive work on the bridge has been mentioned by a number of people. Davies says you were robbed and I don’t like to hear such imputations. The accounts ledger was here, and—’
‘You just thought you’d have a look, did you? I don’t believe I gave permission!’
‘You didn’t. But I know you agreed that Matthew could and I know he was puzzled by them – although he is responsible for all his lordship’s estates. So I was simply wondering whom he should speak to when he returns.’ I hoped my lie could be excused – but preferably not exposed.
‘How on earth does he think a broken bridge is connected to two murders, for heaven’s sake?’
‘It was something someone said … There’s always talk, isn’t there?’
‘Since you mention it, there’s talk about you. Always poking round in the library … valuable books missing.’ His demeanour was quite changed again. ‘That sort of thing, ma’am.’
‘Really?’ I hoped my terror did not show. It would be all too easy for someone to secrete them in our bed chamber, even in our cases. ‘I wonder where the rumours might emanate from,’ I continued, as if the idea was entirely academic.
‘Well, you know about books.’
‘I should hope so!’ Now I was on safe ground, and I could speak with assurance. ‘The late Lord Croft, who was like a father to me, taught me all he knew, and I now have the legal duty to guard and cherish all the priceless books in the House until places are found for the most valuable in libraries open to scholars. Then they can be on loan, no more. In fact, some experts from the British Museum and the Bodleian Library are coming up next month to discuss the matter with my fellow trustees and me. I have to say, now I have your ear, that in my professional judgement no one should ever be allowed to smoke in your library. Ever.’
‘You’ll be saying next we need a librarian,’ he grumbled – at least this time he was not furious with me.
‘I don’t need to! You said the same thing only yesterday,’ I said, allowing a dimple to show.
He sagged in the chair. ‘So I did. This is for your ears only, Harriet. We had one but we had to let him go. Things amiss …’ He waved his hand in the direction of the ledger. ‘Damned finances, you know. Whole estate is … worrying me. I’m a military man – don’t understand these things. But I do understand this – if people are saying that about the bridge, what else might they be saying about how other things are run? Matthew’s the man, isn’t he? He could come and put things right here.’
‘You’d have to speak to him. But he is as loyal to his lordship and his properties as I am. Oh, you cannot know how we long to take a Continental tour, but there is no point in the year when one or the other of us is not deluged with work. I look at the wonderful paintings in your gallery here, and yearn to return to Florence, to Rome! Even,’ I added ruefully, ‘to London.’
‘Not in the summer. The great stink! Wait till that Bazalgette chappie sorts it all out! Meanwhile,’ he said, no longer jovial, ‘people are also saying you stole that jet necklace. Might even have killed the Gräfin for it.’
I could hardly bear it. I was on my feet. ‘Do these “people” want to see a copy of dear Lady Croft’s Will? Cousin, she left far more than this – she left a king’s ransom! – for my use until his lordship marries. And now no more than a tiny piece of it is hanging round my neck like a veritable albatross!’
He didn’t know how to deal with my anguished fury. ‘Shall I call my wife? Get you some smelling salts?’
I gripped the back of a chair. ‘Thank you, no. But I might pour us more coffee.’
‘Here,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’d best pour it, hadn’t I? Don’t want it spilt everywhere.’
‘Thank you.’
‘“A king’s ransom”. Why should she leave it to you?’
‘Because she knows that I will always run the house as if she were still with us, expecting visitors. That I treat poor Lord Croft, even at his worst, with respect and ensure my colleagues do. That should he ever recover enough for marriage to be a possibility he will be able to hand his bride the jewels I have in my keeping as clean and bright as they should be, holding nothing back. She trusted me, and in her own way was fond of me, perhaps. That is why I wear that wonderful jet – to remember her.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me. I do not like to speak of my life at all, let alone in such a way. And it takes us away from what we should be doing.’
‘You really are a friend of Halesowen’s?’
‘I am honoured he should consider me in those terms. But our paths have obviously diverged widely.’ There was a shout from the boys still diligently playing. I smiled – but now perhaps more at the memory of that long-gone golden summer than at the boys’ fun.
‘If anyone is to be trusted in this life, I suppose the friend of a judge as distinguished as Halesowen should be,’ he said with a rather endearing naivety. ‘So I can trust you not – hell and damnation!’ he snarled, as Lord Webbe’s face appeared at the window.
‘Mrs Rowsley – I keep getting this wrong. Can you spare just five minutes to help me get it right?’ he asked.
‘Better make that fifty,’ his friend suggested. ‘He’s a slow learner!’
I was cursing under my breath at least as freely as Cousin Barrington. Why not five minutes later? I might never get that chance again.
‘Can you lend her to us, Colonel?’
‘Nice bit of sun. Good fresh air. I’ll come myself.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you want me to lock up while you run and get your bonnet, my dear?’
Emphatically I did not. I wanted to lock up myself. But I could find some excuse to double back, I told myself as I did indeed run upstairs. Outside our bed chamber door, however, I hesitated. What if I did really find precious books secreted amongst our belongings?
All seemed well. None of the places where I would have concealed them were occupied by anything other than shoes and clothes. So I ran down the stairs again, my heart alight at the thought of the sun and the boys. And yes, Cousin Barrington had remembered to lock the door.