Mr. Brown turned ashen. For what seemed like eons we just stared at each other.
“Aubrey is our local magistrate, a renowned expert on antique weapons and armory … and leader of the enemy,” Rupert went on with relish. “Iris is our excellent seamstress and you’ve probably come across Katherine? She was the TV host for Fakes & Treasures.”
I suppressed the urge to demand an explanation. Judging by a variety of expressions Aubrey gave me from across the room, I was certain that would come later. But for now, I offered my hand and smiled. “Very nice to meet you.”
Aubrey gave a nod of greeting. “Mrs. Stanford. Ms. Stanford … a pleasure.”
“If you’d like me to run you up an outfit, you’d better let me know quickly,” said Mum. “I’ve not made a single costume for the Roundheads and I’d quite like to tackle a bit of leather.”
Aubrey looked startled. “Oh. Thank you. But that won’t be necessary.”
“We’ve asked Aubrey to take a look at the dagger that was found in the grave this morning,” Rupert went on. “Unfortunately, Detective Inspector Cropper isn’t here yet.”
“Just show me where it is,” said Aubrey, who, now he’d recovered from the shock of seeing me and realized I wasn’t going to spill the beans, spoke with the unnerving authority of a man used to be obeyed.
“I’m afraid Shawn—Detective Inspector Cropper—took the dagger with him.”
“He took the dagger with him?” Aubrey exclaimed. “That is highly irregular. It is vital that I see the weapon in situ.”
“I’m afraid our policeman considers the grave a crime scene and until we know—”
“I bet pompous Shawn has it in a Ziploc bag,” Lavinia said dreamily. “He’ll have a plastic shopping bag and in the plastic shopping bag will be the Ziploc bag. I bet you a thousand pounds!”
“Be quiet,” Rupert hissed again.
Aubrey checked his watch. “How long do you think this Detective Inspector is going to be? I have much to prepare for Saturday’s muster.”
“Aubrey is our Master of Arms for the Skirmish,” Rupert explained. “He’ll be organizing the muster on Saturday morning along with Piers— Where is Piers? I thought he was coming with you?”
“You know my son,” said Aubrey. “He’ll be here in his own time.”
Rupert looked annoyed.
“But I do know he has seventeen volunteers willing to play dead,” Aubrey said with a chuckle.
“I hope he hasn’t offered anyone money this year,” said Rupert.
“I believe payment in Scrumpy was mentioned,” said Aubrey. “He feels that if someone has to lie in a field full of cow manure on a hot day they should get something for it other than insect bites.”
“Well, he should have checked with me first,” growled Rupert. “Free Scrumpy was not in the budget.”
“He doesn’t like you, Rupey,” Lavinia said wistfully, still clutching her gown. “I wish you loved each other. I love you, but I love Piers because he’s my brother. I can’t choose.” Lavinia started to sniffle. “Don’t ask me to choose. I really can’t.”
Aubrey rounded on Rupert. “What have you done to her this time?”
“I have no idea what she’s sniveling about!” Rupert exclaimed.
“Let’s go and try on your costume, your ladyship,” said Mum cheerfully. “Come along now. Where should we change, milord?”
“Take her to the downstairs loo, Iris,” Rupert said, but Lavinia dug in her toes.
“Did you know that we can’t use cannon anymore?” she suddenly announced.
Mum looked puzzled. “Cannon, your ladyship?”
“Isn’t that right, Daddy? No cannon! And ab-so-lute-ly no live ammunition! Health and Safety spoil everyone’s fun.”
“That’s quite right, dear,” said Aubrey, shooting daggers at Rupert.
“Shatters the windows. Glass everywhere.” Lavinia nodded sagely. She paused for a moment. “When you shoot a gun now you have to shout … BANG!”
She yelled so loudly that Cropper fell into the Gibraltar gong with a deafening clatter.
Lavinia screamed. Mum and I collided. Shawn burst into the drawing room in a swirl of cape and feathers making all of us jump. I half-expected him to draw his sword.
“I heard a crash and then a scream.” His eyes darted left and right. “What’s going on?”
“God have mercy.” Mum sniggered, and began to shake with suppressed mirth. I daren’t look at her especially when I saw that Shawn was holding his trademark plastic shopping bag.
“Shawn’s got the bag!” Lavinia shrieked. “Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble!”
Aubrey fixed Rupert with a glare. “I hope Lavinia’s not taking any drugs.”
“Drugs?” said Shawn. “What’s all this about drugs!”
“Lavinia got kicked by a horse,” said Rupert wearily as he helped Cropper out of the Gibraltar gong.
Mum advanced to the sofa where Lavinia had retreated, still clasping her gown. “Come along, milady. Let’s try it on and make sure it fits.”
Lavinia brightened. “Oh yes. It must fit. I want to look better than Jess.”
Aubrey looked pained. Shawn was confused; and Rupert, embarrassed. I felt I was in the midst of a farce.
Mum got hold of Lavinia and we steered her out of the drawing room.
“Ms. Stanford—Kat?” Aubrey hurried after us. “Can we talk privately?”
“You go ahead,” I said to my mother.
Aubrey motioned for me to follow him to the far end of the hall and ducked behind a large potted palm.
“I’m sure this will start rumors,” I said lightly.
“I feel I must explain,” he said. “You must understand that I have a very good reason for not being completely honest with you.”
“Antique dolls are quite a change from antique weapons,” I teased.
“As I mentioned, the doll belonged to my late wife,” he said. “I was curious as to the value, but when I realized it was indeed valuable I decided against selling it. Sentimental reasons.”
I often came across sellers who wanted to remain anonymous and told him so. “But why the secrecy with me?”
“No secrecy at all,” Aubrey blustered. “I didn’t want to upset Jess. First wives and all that.”
From the Jess I had met earlier in the post office, I found that hard to believe. She hadn’t seemed the jealous type.
“Did she mention anything about the message I left on your answer machine?”
Aubrey visibly paled. “You left a message?”
“After lunch. When I found the doll in your car.”
“But … I didn’t give you my telephone number!”
“It was on my mobile phone,” I said. “My mobile phone logs incoming calls.”
“Oh dear,” he said anxiously. “Did you mention the doll in your message?”
“No. I just asked you to call me. Nothing more.”
This was becoming stranger by the minute.
“Good. Good. Thank you.” He gave a brief smile. “First wives and all that.”
“So you said. Well, you can pick up the doll anytime. Just call first.”
“I wish I had boobs,” came an anguished cry from the downstairs loo. “Why did God make me so flat chested?”
“Sometimes I wonder if Lavinia was left by the fairies,” Aubrey said with a sigh.
I decided I liked him after all. “I recognized your car in the hedge,” I said. “I drove around looking for you. I thought you might have been lying in a ditch somewhere.”
“I cut across the fields to Carew Court,” said Aubrey. “Those old Volvos are built like tanks. Piers dragged her out with a tractor this afternoon. Apart from some scratches and a broken headlamp, she’s perfectly drivable.”
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt and the Jumeau is still in one piece. What happened?”
“I was run off the road by a madwoman in a Morris Minor Traveller. She didn’t even stop to see if I was alright.”
Since Violet Green was the only person in the area who owned a Morris Minor Traveller I told Aubrey it was most likely her.
Aubrey frowned. “Violet Green? Violet Green. Now why do I know that name?”
“Do you want to see this dagger or not?” Rupert called out from the oak refectory table where Shawn, wearing purple disposable gloves, was holding it.
“Let’s go and torment my son-in-law.” And with a mischievous wink Aubrey gallantly took my arm, and we went to join them.
Shawn offered Aubrey a pair of disposable gloves. “I must insist on these, sir.”
“Do you have a different color?” said Aubrey. “Unlike Prince, I was never fond of purple.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Shawn. “Please use these. We’re trying not to contaminate the item—”
“But since you are holding it, the item has already been contaminated,” Aubrey pointed out as he pulled on a pair. “As has the grave, so I’m told. Have you contacted the authorities?”
“Dr. Crane,” said Rupert. “Plymouth University of Anthropology. He’ll be here on Monday.”
“Crane is a good man although a bit unconventional.” Aubrey nodded to Shawn. “The dagger please.”
Rupert nodded and Shawn obliged.
Aubrey studied the blade in earnest as we all watched the great man.
Finally, Aubrey spoke. “This is an excellent example of a seventeenth-century parrying dagger.”
“Of course it’s a parrying dagger,” said Rupert. “We’ve already established that.”
“It would have been used in combination with a rapier,” Aubrey went on. “Historically, the dagger was wielded in the off hand of a swordsman, hence the name main gauche—French for ‘left hand.’”
“We know that, Aubrey,” said Rupert.
“This dagger was both a primary defense and a secondary weapon—a little brother to the rapier.” Aubrey ran his thumb lightly up the blade. “A double-edge blade of Toledo steel.” He turned to Shawn. “Toledo in Spain produced the highest-quality steel. It was known as the sword-making and steelmaking center dating back to AD 500. Roman legions were known to carry weapons from Toledo. These are quillons.”
“Quillons?” Shawn’s voice came from behind my shoulder. I could smell bananas. According to Shawn, his mother-in-law did their laundry and it was the boys’ fabric conditioner’s scent of choice.
“These two transverse members form the cross guard,” said Aubrey. “They’re designed to slow an opponent’s blade, to block the blows and also protect the hand. The main gauche is also used defensively to create a space so that a swordsman can strike—OUT!” With lightning speed Aubrey suddenly lunged at Rupert, who leapt out of the knife’s path, “Like so!”
“Good God, Aubrey!” he exclaimed. “You almost had me.”
“Steady on, sir,” said Shawn, who had leapt back a good three feet himself.
“This is an exceptionally fine example with excellent craftsmanship,” said Aubrey. “It would have been highly prized by its owner. These daggers were custom-made—”
“Rather like the wands at Hogwarts,” Shawn chimed in. “Sorry. The boys have finally discovered Harry Potter.”
“The only thing missing is the sheath,” Aubrey went on.
“Surely the leather would have rotted by now—unless,” Rupert said. “I think we may have a sheath in the Museum Room. Where’s Mother? She’ll know.”
“I took Edith to the railway station,” I reminded him.
“A soldier was married to his sword and dagger,” Aubrey went on. “He would never have left his weapons behind—unless he died, too.”
“There was only one body in the grave,” said Shawn. “A female.”
“There were female soldiers, Aubrey,” said Rupert.
“Yes … there were, but…” Aubrey looked to Shawn. “Did you find other weapons in the grave? Wouldn’t she have carried a sword?”
“She did not have a sword, sir,” said Shawn.
“You’re the detective, Officer,” said Aubrey. “What do you think?”
“We’ve already assumed she was murdered,” said Shawn.
“And it would appear that she wasn’t murdered by just anyone, Rupert,” said Aubrey grimly. “She was murdered by one of your ancestors.”