I was being avoided. There was no doubt of that. And I was almost glad of it, because it meant that I was beginning to learn what it had been like for Harriet. But there was Lady Pidgeon, raising a glass and smiling in my direction. ‘Such a good idea, to encourage us all out here on the terrace, don’t you think? Except it does so make one wonder when one will ever eat.’
‘Indeed. The sun is really so pleasant, isn’t it?’
‘Are you quite well, Mr Rowsley? You look quite … distrait … shall we say?’
My sigh was genuine enough. ‘I am actually very worried about Harriet. I had to leave her for a few moments when we were walking through the park earlier and came back to find her unconscious on the grass.’
‘She had fainted? Not the type at all I’d have thought.’
‘No. She doesn’t faint. She was actually knocked out.’
‘A poacher, perhaps?’ Her notion of when and where poachers operated was clearly different from mine.
‘Perhaps. So poor Constable Davies now has another crime to solve. And she is lying in bed in a darkened room with a terrible headache.’
‘Yet you are here?’
‘For a few minutes only. She said that all my fussing with pillows and lavender drops only made things worse.’
Her ladyship snorted with laughter. ‘I can imagine. But the village doctor? That miserable-looking man – more like an undertaker than a doctor!’
‘He advises rest and liquids, so in a very few minutes I shall go and make sure she sips a little more water.’
‘Good man. Did you hear that, Horatia?’ She leant into someone else’s conversation. ‘Poor Mrs Rowsley has been attacked!’
I could have sworn that the lady she was talking to – the one whose child Harriet had saved, as it happens – muttered something about upstart busybodies getting their comeuppance. ‘Did she see who did it?’ she asked more politely, as she realized I was present.
‘She would certainly recognize the assailant again,’ I said clearly.
As always, conversations rose and fell – but quite inadvertently I chose the perfect moment to make the announcement. I prayed that my bait would be taken. I was ready to follow anyone sliding away.
But then I was foiled. Mason had actually brought out a miniature gong. ‘Dinner is served.’
It was time to approach Lady Hortensia, repeating what I had told Lady Pidgeon and saying I must go and see how Harriet was.
She was far from interested in her guest, more concerned, I suspected, in the table plans I had just torn up. Maddeningly, as I left I stumbled, colliding with a massive flower arrangement in an urn almost as large as that epergne. Dare I pull it down on top of me in the hope it might conceal something? On the whole I thought not. It was something Reece might want to think about. I left to the sound of a cultured voice: ‘Dashed bad form to be drunk when your wife is on her death bed.’
I spoke to Mason telling him that I doubted if Harriet would be able to eat, but I myself would welcome a tray of refreshments when he had time. Perhaps he might leave it outside, so she was not disturbed. He at least sounded genuinely concerned, promising to send for Dr Highworth immediately if I told him that there was a change for the worse.
I had drunk enough to necessitate a visit to the privy, so it was a few minutes before I ran upstairs to our original bed chamber, which is where any stray onlooker would expect to see me. Someone was ahead of me, reaching the landing and heading along the corridor leading to our room. Who? The sun lit his silhouette, so I could not identify him. I ran as swiftly and as silently as I could. Should I shout? No, that would ruin Reece’s plot.
He stopped by our door. A maid approached, one I hadn’t met – taller by a head than Clara. Screaming, he charged at her.
I ran.
He had her by the throat. ‘Give me my money back. I warn you! Give me my money back. Should have done a better job before. Thought I had. You bitch.’
Davies and I tore his hands away. Viciously strong, they suddenly went limp. He slipped, unresisting. A dreadful rattle came from his throat and he slumped to the floor.
Lord Pidgeon was dead.
‘So the poor old gentleman thought he was attacking the Gräfin again?’ asked Reece, whom I had summoned from his hiding place myself. He surveyed the landing, corridors and stairs all alive with chattering guests.
‘If he thought anything at all. If he was capable of thought, in fact,’ Davies said. ‘He was like one possessed.’
Reece nodded. ‘Get that doctor here. Now. It’s too late for the old man but the maid will need attention. And the widow. Now!’ he snapped at the goggling staff and guests. ‘Yes, you!’ He turned to me. ‘Which is your hostess? Someone must see the poor widow back to her room and sit with her. For goodness’ sake – Sir?’
My cousin had arrived.
‘Colonel Rowsley. Sergeant Reece.’ There was no time for a more formal introduction. ‘Barrington, where is Lady Hortensia?’
‘Damned if I know.’
I looked for Harriet. Reece had put his hand on her arm, asking her something with some urgency. She shook her head, pointing downward.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, might I ask for silence?’ Reece raised his voice. ‘Lord Pidgeon will be conveyed to a temporary resting place downstairs, where he will lie until Dr Highworth can attend. I suggest that we make his departure as dignified as possible. Major Jameson, will you supervise the staff in their solemn duty, please? Yes, Mason – as before, please.’
Why put Jameson in charge of anything? But I did notice Davies slipping off in the other direction – towards the Major’s bed chamber – as all eyes watched the sheeted corpse being carried down the stairs, presumably to the cellar. Why not in a spare bed chamber? Harriet, for some reason ignoring the despair of Lady Pidgeon, scooped up the still gasping maid and guided her to the care of Mrs Simpkiss. That was why Pidgeon would not lie in state. He was a killer. As for his wife, as soon as Harriet knew the maid was safe, she looked for her. But whether Lady Pidgeon wanted her company or not, the other ladies at last surrounding her ensured she would not get it.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is a time for sober reflection, not idle chatter,’ Reece said, his voice as sonorous as if he were mimicking his ecclesiastical uncle’s. ‘So I ask you all to retire to your rooms. I must tell you that I have obtained a search warrant for these premises, and it may be that Constable Davies or I will need to inspect your property. I am sure we can rely on your cooperation as we do so. Please do not embarrass the servants by asking them to replace or dispose of anything you might not wish to be seen.’ One or two people dropped their eyes under his penetrating gaze. He continued, ‘It may be that some of you will wish to speak to me on the matter. In any case, none of you may leave the house till I give permission. None of you. Colonel, might Constable Davies and I continue to use the sewing room? Thank you. Should anyone need me I will be there till late tonight and from very early on tomorrow morning. Good night.’
As a hubbub rose, he dropped his voice to a discreet conversational level again and inched closer to my cousin. ‘Colonel, there are things you may wish to discuss with me in private, are there not? Some documents have come to hand, you understand.’
‘What the devil?’ For a moment I feared he would strike the Sergeant.
‘Calmly, please, sir. Thank you. I had the forethought to equip myself with a search warrant, remember. Would you care to talk to me now or leave it till tomorrow?’
‘I’m sure there will be plenty of time tomorrow,’ Barrington said, almost, but not quite, as if he was discussing a meeting with Harrison to talk about greenfly. ‘For the time being, I will set an example to our guests and retire.’
‘Why on earth leave something as sensitive as that in the house?’ I asked Reece, setting down my single malt. The sewing room seemed strange without young Turton, now in Mrs Highworth’s care as her husband dealt with the problems of this house. I raised a silent toast to him.
‘Where else would you want to leave it? What if fire had broken out at his lawyer’s? Or a clerk had gossiped? Had it not been for the extraordinary chance that your room was not safe, had it not been for the love of fine furniture Harriet and I share then the desk would still be closed.’
Harriet, sipping some of the champagne that Mason had suggested as a substitute for the whisky, said, ‘I suppose you would need some documentation about the baby. Just in case,’ she added with more than a hint of self-mockery. ‘Does it need to be known?’
‘It may be mentioned in court. The child is innocent. Barrington is almost a victim – though not entirely. Many men would have brought the marriage to an end, of course, so I suppose it is to his credit he was prepared to raise another man’s child as his own. And by being complaisant he was able to stay as the lord of the manor, as it were. But he had reckoned without the blood father being such a deeply unpleasant man with a love of gambling. Heavens, this place must have been like a casino when the Gräfin was in business!’
‘Little Clara said that the Gräfin’s husband ran one – the child pronounced it “cashino”, which sounds unnervingly accurate. So I gather the Gräfin was a card-sharper, who relieved her fellow guests of huge amounts of cash and then mocked them, humiliated them, when they couldn’t pay. And there I had assumed she was being kind to me.’
‘Only at the start, Harriet,’ Davies said, sipping his water.
‘And do I deduce that Jameson was also in debt to her?’
‘He need not have been, of course. He could just have been bled dry by the man who discovered that he and Lady Hortensia were lovers – the completely unlovable Biddlestone. That was why he could never be corrected or dismissed. Like many butlers, he knew too much. And we saw the extent of his wealth.’ Reece smiled dourly. ‘You may have noticed that while Jameson supervised the removal of Pidgeon’s body, Morgan was busy doing something quite different.’
‘Searching his room?’ Harriet asked.
‘Exactly. And finding a torn jacket and a bloodstained shirt. Well done, Harriet: we’ll keep an eye open for your hat-pin.’
‘And if they don’t find it I promise to take her to Venice to buy a replacement. My apologies – I interrupted.’
He nodded. ‘Mrs Simpkiss took it upon herself to cast an intelligent eye over her ladyship’s sitting room while everyone was at dinner. She pushed a helpful note under this door.’ He flourished it. ‘Did you ever venture in there yourself, Harriet, when you were a maid?’
‘Would you have done, in my place?’
‘I might not have been able to resist. However, I honour your reservations. It’s a pity, because you would have been able to corroborate that the room is always kept completely tidy. Today, however, its chilly perfection was marred by some books tucked behind and under cushions. So I fear we may not be able to exclude her from that unpleasant plot to accuse you of theft. I am very glad you declined to help her and her friends any more. Even Lady Pidgeon could have given you a much stronger warning against mixing with the Gräfin. I suspect you will find it in you to forgive her. Personally, I would find it hard. Incidentally I cannot believe that Lady Hortensia was unaware of the situation given the state of the estate finances.’
‘It was she who had the librarian dismissed,’ Harriet said.
The room was almost in darkness now, but no one called for candles, and Mason would know – with that strange instinct of people who always served others – not to disturb us till he was summoned.
‘I can see that people wanted Biddlestone dead,’ Harriet admitted. ‘But which man wanted it so much that he did the deed? And, more to the point, how? The Colonel spotted only one set of tracks leading to that bridge, did he not?’
‘He drew attention to one set of tracks. He might even have matched his stride to Biddlestone’s. No, not with his limp! Perhaps he used waders. Equally, Jameson might have done the same. I think we shall know more tomorrow when we can question him in the presence of his lawyer. But now we need our beds. I think, Matthew and Harriet, you deserve the sumptuous room that you were denied when you arrived, and Morgan and I will occupy yours. After all, another desperate man might still seek revenge, and we will try to deny him that. We will even stand guard as your water is delivered and make sure your barricades are secure. And we will escort you down in the morning. Be kind to your cousin if he appears tomorrow, Matthew. And be understanding if he does not.’ He peered through the gloom. ‘Let us call for our chambersticks!’
‘Dashed rabbits making a terrible mess of the home farm vegetable garden, I hear,’ Barrington declared in something like his usual tones as sunlight flooded the sewing room. He’d been waiting for us when the officers, true to their word, had escorted us down. Somehow they managed to merge into the background.
Barrington touched a weapon on his desk. ‘Thought I’d take advantage of this lovely weather and pot a few for Mrs Dibbs or whatever her name is. Got to be careful – damned gun favouring the right. Now, I may be away for a while so if you two want to head for home now this new policeman here has sorted everything out I’m sure you can. Damned good bowlers – yes, the pair of you. Never seen anything like it, Cousin Harriet.’
‘But you worked me out quickly enough,’ she said, putting her hand on his sleeve for a moment.
‘Well, well – could do with someone like you to teach my son, couldn’t I? Ah, Reith – hope you slept?’ The sergeant stepped forward, bowing, as if he had just entered the room. ‘I was just telling my cousin and his wife I fancy getting a rabbit or two for the pot before everyone gathers for breakfast. Poor old Pidgeon. Who’d have thought it? Always drunk as a lord, of course. Brain quite addled, I should think. Rowsley, old chap – I mentioned to your clever little wife that the estate could do with a bit of a steadying hand. I know you can’t leave your present post, but maybe you could spend a couple of days now and then? Appoint a decent man? Yes?’
‘Of course.’
We shook hands solemnly.
‘That cousin of yours did his best, Reith. Wasted in this hamlet. See if you can give him a bit of a leg up in the world, eh? And get him to put this in his children’s money box. Four children in that doll’s house, imagine it …’
Reece said slowly, ‘Colonel, I’m sure those rabbits can wait till you’ve had your gun repaired. Can you tell us what happened? Or shall I speculate? Wearing waders, you went to see how the floods were affecting your land. You came across Biddlestone, who was probably insolent. You argued. What happened next?’
‘I pushed him,’ I made out. ‘He slipped. Hit his head. Out cold on his back. On his back. I should have waited – seen the man was all right. But I couldn’t bear to. He must have rolled over.’
‘Unless someone else came along and decided it was more convenient to help him die,’ Reece said quietly and firmly.‘There is no evidence at all as yet to show conclusively who killed Biddlestone.’ He took a deep breath and continued, a different note in his voice, ‘Sir, what about your son? Will Jameson admit the attempted murder of Mr Turton and the attempted abduction of Harriet? Will he confess to the murder of the infernal butler? I doubt it, though I will do my best to make him. I’m sure the prosecution will try to break him down in court. I think he will make unpleasant counter-allegations, reveal unpleasant truths, about this household. I’m sure any jury will find him guilty of the first two crimes, but not necessarily the third. Whatever the verdict, what is said in court will make rumours swirl. Life will not be pleasant. It will not be easy for you to decide what to do with your wife. Divorce? Those papers might be quoted in court – again, not pleasant. All speculation, I know. But I do absolutely know one thing. In the nursery is a child who needs someone to love and look up to. A father.’
There was a very long silence for the pretty clock to tick away.
At last Barrington cleared his throat. ‘She can keep this damned place. Hers, come to think of it. But I suppose a wing each … As for the lad …’ He shook his head, as if the last thing he wanted to think about was the unfortunate child.
It was Morgan Davies’ turn to step forward. Barrington jumped.
‘A lad needs a proper father, Colonel. A good man.’
‘Make sure he grows up a decent man,’ Barrington mused, clearly thinking of the alternative. ‘Someone’ll need to teach him his cricket, won’t they? No cheating, that sort of thing …’
Gently, unobtrusively, Reece took the gun.