Chapter 17
Rose invited Elizabeth to join us for dinner, and Lady Frockmorton entertained the table with stories of the grand old days when her husband was alive and Thornecroft Castle was at the center of what passed as West Yorkshire society in the 1950s. “Even then—particularly then—we were having to make do as best we could and stretch every penny to the seams.” She laughed. “I didn’t even have a lady’s maid. One of the housekeepers helped me dress for formal dinners. These days, I dress myself.”
She looked lovely in a black pant suit dotted with sparkling silver sequins worn over a satin silver blouse. The blouse showed signs of wear around the collar, and I noticed a few rough stitches holding the buttons of her jacket in place. Her only jewelry was small gold circles clipped to her ear lobes and the plain gold band on her left hand. Conversation was light and casual, and Elizabeth seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing from Matt and Simon.
“If you ever want to write a book about the undersides of the once-great families of Yorkshire, I can put you in touch with people who know that sort of thing,” she said to Matt.
“I remember Garfield Hall, back in the day,” she told Simon. “Beautiful property and fabulous house. Edward and I went there only once, as I recall, to a ball. The father, or was it the grandfather, of the current earl was an incredible spendthrift. He entertained as his ancestors had done before him and just about drove the property into receivership. A common enough story. I’m glad to hear they’re doing well again.”
“Lily and I are planning to go to Halifax tomorrow,” Simon said. “As tourists. I’m not from around here myself, and I’ve been working since getting here. Anything in particular we should see?”
“If you’re interested in industrial history, no place better on earth.” Elizabeth launched into a recitation of the glories of Halifax. I smiled at Simon, looking forward to the outing.
Simon urged me to try the sticky toffee pudding for dessert, and I just about found myself in heaven. Bernie, who’d refused dessert, reached across him, grabbed a spoon and dug in. “Oh, my goodness, that is good,” she said as she scraped up caramel sauce. “I don’t suppose you can find a way to put it on the menu at the tearoom, Lily?”
“Can’t see that it would fit,” I said. “Everything at tea is usually eaten with the fingers.”
Elizabeth dabbed her lips with her napkin and laid it on the table. “The night is still young, but I am not. This has been delightful, but it’s time for me to turn in.”
No one had said a word during dinner about the death of her grandson or the disappearance of her jewels, and I was glad of it. Elizabeth needed some time to relax. What happened here on Sunday had to be topmost on her mind, as well as her being constantly badgered by the police and family members as to if she remembered something. When we arrived back at the hotel that afternoon, a security guard was still posted at the entrance to the driveway, but only a handful of bored paparazzi and gossipmongers remained. If the rain came, that would (hopefully) see the end of them.
Elizabeth lifted a hand, and a waiter magically appeared. When we initially sat down, Matt and Simon said they’d take care of the bill, and Elizabeth had not argued. “I’d like to return to my rooms now, Jason. If you have a moment, would you be so kind as to escort me?”
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, clearly meaning it.
Simon and Matt leapt to their feet.
“Time for me to go to my room, also,” Rose said.
Jason got the walker for Elizabeth and helped her stand. Rose went with them, and my friends and I headed off in search of a nightcap. A scattering of people were leaning on the bar or sitting at tables. Emma, Susannah, and Carmela among them. Emma called to us to join them, and we did so. She gave Bernie and me a nod and a discreet thumbs up. I took that to mean she’d spoken to her father, and he hadn’t yelled at her too much.
“Any news from the police about how the investigation’s going?” Matt asked once we were seated and drinks ordered.
“The same questions over and over again,” Susannah said. “DI Ravenwood asked me if Alicia Boyle, of all people, had ever made threats against the family. I laughed in his face. Man’s a fool.”
“I don’t think so,” Carmela said. “He’s checking all the angles, as they’re supposed to do. You don’t suppose Alicia might have taken the sapphires, do you? To give the money to some of her radical groups?”
“I do not,” Susannah said. “The organizations she belongs to can hardly be called radical. Plenty of people in the UK think it’s time to get rid of the monarchy once and for all and sell off all their assets.”
“Do you think that?” Simon asked her.
“I might be leaning that way. Haven’t entirely made up my mind. I will admit, it’s not a personal thing for me. As the daughter of a daughter of an earl, I am not in line for any sort of title.”
“I apologize if this is an indelicate question, Carmela,” Bernie, who had never worried about delicacy in her life, said. “Do you know when you’ll be able to have the funeral?”
Carmela dipped her head and gave it a small shake. “No.”
“It makes things difficult,” Susannah said. “No one knows whether to go home or to stay, and the reservations clerk is trying to balance extended visits with sudden cancelations and new bookings. Believe it or not, we’re getting new bookings because people heard about Thornecroft Castle in the news.”
“Ghouls,” Carmela said.
“No publicity is bad publicity,” Susannah said. “Or so they say in advertising.”
“They’re hoping to find the Frockmorton Sapphires among the dust bunnies under their bed or stuffed into the back of a drawer,” Emma said. “Maybe we should institute a policy of searching people’s bags when they check out.”
“Great idea,” Susannah said with a laugh. “I’ll suggest it to Tony. Speak of the devil, here he is now.”
Carmela’s head jerked up. Light filled her eyes and a broad smile appeared on her face. “Tony! There you are, my darling. Come and join us.”
He looked at Carmela, but he did not smile in return. Then he turned away and spoke to no one in particular. “Sorry, but things to do. Never stops around here, does it? That’s the hotel business.”
He almost ran out of the bar.
“Your brother needs to learn to take it easy sometimes,” Carmela said to Susannah. “Nothing wrong with having a drink of an evening.”
Susannah gave the other woman a poisonous look. “Tony is this hotel. If he took it easy, we’d be out of business in a fortnight.”
“He’s worried,” Emma said. “He was called down to the police station earlier.”
“What for?” Carmela asked.
“About the death of your husband, I’d guess. And the disappearance of our grandmother’s jewels. Did he say anything to you when he got back, Susannah?”
“No,” Susannah said. “I asked, but he snapped at me that he didn’t want to talk about it. Very unlike Tony. We always talk things over. I could tell he was bothered by it. He was at the station for a long time, almost all afternoon. No one else, far as I know, was asked to present themselves for questioning. The detectives have always come here to talk to us. To me, anyway. What about you, Carmela?”
“Why are you asking me? They have not questioned me. I am, let me remind you, the widow.”
“Ah yes, the grieving widow. Good thing Julien didn’t have much money for you two to fight over in the divorce. Otherwise, maybe they would be hauling you downtown. Then again, can’t forget about the sapphires.”
Carmela stood up. “As pleasant as this conversation is, I think I’ll seek company elsewhere.”
“Tony’s probably in his office,” Susannah said. “With the door locked and bolted and that cat on guard outside.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means give it up, Carmela.”
Carmela walked away without another word.
* * *
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,” Simon said, when at last we were alone in our room, “I got a call from Genevieve, my boss at Garfield Hall, shortly after we got back from York.”
“Do you have to go back? A gardening emergency?” I went to the windows and pulled the drapes against the night.
“Good thing about being a gardener, there never are any emergencies.” Simon dug through the snacks left on the small side table, next to the kettle and tea things. He selected a packet of chocolate biscuits and ripped it open. “No, the police paid them a visit and she wanted me to know. Two in here. Want one?”
“No thanks. I don’t like the sound of that, and I am not referring to cookies at bedtime. Was it DS Capretti?”
“No. They sent a uniform, which is a good thing, meaning more of a routine check than an interview. He asked how well she’d checked my references, and if I’d shown any signs of having criminal tendencies or contacts, either here or in the states.”
“Why would they do that? You weren’t even here on Sunday.”
“I suspect they think you might have passed the jewels on to me.”
My eyes widened. He nodded. “Fortunately, I’ve kept my international jewel thief background a secret. Just kidding, Lily.”
“I suppose it’s only logical they’d want to speak to you eventually. Bernie and I have been telling everyone we wouldn’t have stolen the sapphires as we don’t know anyone to give them to, and we wouldn’t be able to get them out of the country.”
“He asked Genevieve if I’d ever mentioned going to Thornecroft Castle, prior to this week, and if anyone from there visited me at Garfield Hall. She said she didn’t know. Which is fair enough, as I don’t tell everyone my personal business, and Genevieve doesn’t spend her days standing on the battlements with binoculars spying on the staff. Not that I have anything to hide.”
“Is this going to cause problems for you at work?”
“Genevieve’s okay with it. She knows what happened here on Sunday, of course—everyone does—and I’d previously told her I was taking a few days off because my American friends would be here for Lady Frockmorton’s birthday. The police are checking all angles, that’s all.”
I wasn’t entirely reassured. Just when I’d started to think I was in the clear, I found out the police had been asking about the bona fides of my only English friend.
“What did Emma have to tell you?” He ripped open another packet of cookies. Yorkshire shortbread this time.
“Emma?”
“Yes, Emma. You and Bernie ran off after her, obviously hot on the trail. Only one reason you’d do that. Did you learn anything?”
“Nothing that provides any insight as to what happened with the murder or the theft. As Bernie told us, Emma’s in a financial mess, and she confirmed that, but she didn’t steal the jewels in an attempt to get out of it.”
“You know that for sure?”
“Pretty sure. She called her father, very reluctantly I might add, to ask for a loan. She wouldn’t have done that if she had expectations of coming into a multimillion-pound windfall.”
“How do you know she called her dad?”
“She told me?” I admitted.
“Right,” he said. “Sure you don’t want a biscuit?”