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Aunt Butty and I managed to avoid the police and sneak upstairs to refresh ourselves. Maddie was nowhere to be seen, but once again, I didn’t mind. No doubt she was pressing something. Or hiding in a corner with a book and a cup of tea, which she sometimes did when we were at home. It gave me the chance to clean up without her asking uncomfortable questions.
My clothes were a disaster, smeared with streaks of dirty gray, so I gave them a shake out the window to lose any creepy crawlies and draped them over the chaise longue. Maddie could have them washed later.
After repairing my makeup and fluffing my hair, ridding it of dust and cobwebs, I dug in my wardrobe for a new outfit. It was already getting rather warm, so I went with high-waisted, white trousers and a V-necked ribbed top that was navy and white striped. It was all very nautical. I tied a contrasting pink and white silk scarf around my throat, despite the heat. It was just too cute not to. I slipped on my white ghillies sandals with the red trim, tying them neatly around my trim ankles. I may have more curves than fashionable, but I was very proud of my ankles.
Looking rather more put together, I descended the stairs, only to be immediately caught out by Brown Suit. “Ah ha!” He pointed a thick finger at me in an accusing manner.
“Ah ha, indeed. Do you mind pointing that thing elsewhere?” I drawled, continuing my leisurely downward decent, shooting him one of my languid lady-of-the-manor looks complete with nose in the air. Felix said I’d perfected it. I like to think so.
“Don’t be a cad, Willis. This is Ophelia, Lady Rample, widow of the late Lord Rample. She’s one of my houseguests.” Harry appeared in a nearby doorway looking amused. Clearly, he wasn’t taking the break-in, or this Willis person, seriously.
“Pardon me, your ladyship.” Willis sketched an awkward bow, equal parts fawning and resentful. How he pulled that off, I couldn’t imagine. “Detective Inspector Willis, at your service. I’ve come about the, er, situation.”
“Situation? How astonishing! I had no idea we had a situation.” I’d finally reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned casually against the balustrade.
Willis wobbled a bit, clearly unsure how to take my comment. Harry, on the other hand, hid a smirk. He was looking rather dashing with fawn colored high pants and a soft red polo shirt. Casual, yet elegant. No wonder Aunt Butty was smitten, though she would never admit such a thing.
“Er, yes. Well...I really must speak with you, Lady Rample,” Willis finally managed.
“About?” I arched a brow at him, still playing arrogant aristo to the hilt.
“The situation, of course,” Harry said helpfully and with a snicker.
“Perhaps you might clarify what this situation is?” I asked as if Aunt Butty and I hadn’t already had our noses in police business, with a collection of cobwebs to prove it. Of course, the last person I wanted finding out about our little adventure was the detective in charge. He’d probably lock us up for being busybodies.
“If you would join me in the drawing room,” Willis said with all due deference to my station and a bit more bowing and scraping. Though I could tell from the slight scowl between his brows that he wasn’t happy about it.
“I’ll be out on the veranda if you need me,” Harry said. “I think I’ll get out the croquet set and get everyone together for a game. Cheerio!” And he exited stage right, as they say—or was it left? In any case, he departed as if his pants were in the proverbial fire and left me to the tender mercies of Brown Suit.
Without another word, I followed Willis into the drawing room, empty at this hour. No doubt the rest of the company were either out and about or recovering from their own grilling. I took a seat on the divan while Willis took a chair opposite me. I noticed that the uniform was sitting on a straight back chair in a shadowy corner, pencil and notebook in hand, looking a little ill at ease. How unobtrusive of him.
“Perhaps you have heard, my lady, that Mr. deVane’s study was broken into last night,” Willis began after a bit of throat clearing and foot shuffling.
“I hadn’t heard, actually,” I lied blithely. It may be a failing of mine, but I believe I’m rather accomplished at prevarication. When you grow up as I did, it becomes a matter of self-preservation.
He tapped his pen against his notebook and I noted the dark hair of his eyebrows matched the hair on the back of his knuckles. “Were you not aware the police have been here all morning?” he asked, thick eyebrows rising toward receding hairline.
“As a matter of fact, no.”
“And, er, how did you manage to miss that?” His look said he clearly didn’t believe me.
“I like to sleep in.” I held out my right hand and pretended to study my manicure.
“Until eleven?” he blurted. My blasé attitude was having its desired effect.
“What of it?” Hopefully he wouldn’t grill Chaz and discover Aunt Butty and I had been wandering about the garden.
“Right. Well.” He harrumphed a bit. “How do you know Mr. deVane?”
“I don’t. Not really. My aunt is friends with him—known him for yonks—and he kindly extended an invitation to include me.”
Willis nodded as if I’d confirmed what he already knew. “What were your movements last night?”
“From what point?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
“Do you want to know all about my pre-dinner toilette? The entire conversation at table? Or perhaps my preparations for bed?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally, he managed, “How about we start with what time you went to bed.”
“Very well. It was about one in the morning before I called it quits and went upstairs.”
“And was anyone else up at that time?”
“Certainly. Harry...Mr. deVane, was still locked in his study. I assume with Mr. Chamberlain and Lord Varant.”
Willis nodded. Clearly, he’d heard that part of the story already. “Go on.”
“Chaz, my friend Mr. Raynott, was still in the drawing room along with Miss Semple and Lord Rample.”
Confusion marred his brow. “I thought Lord Rample was dead.”
“The new Lord Rample. My husband’s cousin, Binky.”
“Binky?”
“Yes. That’s what everyone calls him. Although he’s actually called Alphonse Flanders, Lord Rample and whatnot.”
He mulled that over. “Right. Anyone else?”
“No. The other guests had all gone to bed already.”
“You went up alone?”
I nodded. “I did. Although I did peek in on my aunt to see how she was doing. She was still awake, reading. I bid her goodnight and went to my own room where my maid helped me prepare for bed.”
“You brought your own maid?”
“Naturally.”
“Er, right. Your maid’s name?” Willis asked.
“Maddie.”
“Maddie what?”
“Maddie Crewe.”
“English?” He seemed surprised. Not that I blamed him. A lot of upper crust matrons preferred maids of the French variety. Not that I considered myself a matron. It sounded so...old and stuffy. But, I suppose, in society’s eyes I was, indeed, a matron. Shudder.
“It would seem.” The truth was, I knew exactly where Maddie came from, but I wasn’t about to tell Willis. She may be a very odd sort for a maid, but she was terribly efficient when necessary. She had a tendency to speak her mind and forget her titles. But only when it suited her. And her secrets, such as they were, weren’t mine to tell. Certainly not to a police detective.
“I’ll need to speak with her, as well.”
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” I said blandly. I’d have to advise Maddie not to let on that I’d been out of bed well before the police arrived.
“Did you go to sleep immediately?”
“Very shortly thereafter, yes.”
“And did you get up at any point of the night? Hear any odd noises? That sort of thing.”
“I’m afraid not, Inspector—”
“Detective Inspector.”
“Fair enough. Detective Inspector.” It amused me that while he didn’t mind flubbing my title, he was very set on me using his properly. Although I suppose in his case he’d rightfully earned it whereas I’d simply married into it. “I slept deeply and well and didn’t wake until morning.”
He eyed me with suspicion. “Convenient.”
“Not really. If I’d known I needed an alibi, I’d have arranged for one.” I knew it was poking the bear, so to speak, but I couldn’t resist. He practically asked for it.
“You get all that down, Smith?” Willis barked, trying to hide he flush of anger in his cheeks. I’d certainly hit a nerve with this one.
“Yes, sir,” the constable in the corner piped.
“Well, then, Lady Rample. I guess you can go.”
“Before I do, do you mind telling me what this is all about? Was something stolen?” I asked. I didn’t have a lot of hope that DI Willis would blurt out everything he knew but hope springs eternal.
“I’m afraid this is a police matter, Lady Rample,” he said gruffly.
“Ah, well, curiosity and all that,” I said airily as I rose from the divan and strode toward the door. I spun at the last minute, as though I’d just thought of something. Widening my eyes, I said, “We aren’t in danger, are we?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so, my lady,” Willis assured me with that sort of smug superiority such men as he often has toward what they consider the “weaker sex.” “Whoever it was shouldn’t be back.”
“How do you know? How can you be sure?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.
“They got what they came for, didn’t they?” the young, uniformed policeman blurted.
Willis shot him a dirty look, and the young constable blushed furiously, ducking his head. Poor man. No doubt he’d get one doozy of a reaming from his superior once I left.
As for me, it did answer one question: Something had been stolen from Harry deVane’s office. The question was, what?
––––––––
“THAT WILLIS PERSON is a fiend,” Aunt Butty declared as she took a seat across from me. She pulled out a hand fan from somewhere on her person and waved it vigorously.
I was sitting at a small table in a particularly shady spot on the lawn. A light breeze occasionally kicked up, teasing my hair, and making the heat marginally bearable. Chaz, Miss Semple, and the Misses Kettington were playing lawn croquet. Every now and then the smack of wooden mallet against one of the balls echoed across the garden, along with the excited murmur of voices.
Jarvis had informed us that luncheon would be served outside as per Mr. deVane’s orders. He hadn’t seemed pleased about it, but I thought dining al fresco was a marvelous idea. It was far too hot to be cooped up inside.
I tugged at the scarf around my throat. It was definitely too hot. I loosened the knot, removed the offending fabric, and dropped it over the arm of my chair. “I take it Willis interrogated you, too?”
Her rate of fanning increased with her aggravation. “And how. I gave him a piece of my mind, let me tell you.”
I could well imagine. “You didn’t mention our little adventure this morning, did you, Aunt?”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, adjusting her floppy straw hat which was decorated with several different colored rosettes and ribbons which dripped down her back. She’d exchanged the trouser outfit for a light cotton dress in rose pink over which she’d tossed a nearly sheer kimono-type garment with wide, flowing sleeves. A pair of round, tortoiseshell sunglasses perched on her small, straight nose. She looked just this side of ridiculous.
A footman marched down the lawn carrying another table. Behind him trailed a couple maids with chairs, Mrs. Bates, her arm laden with linens, and a second footman with a basket, no doubt containing table settings.
Stoically, the footman set up the table and chairs and marched away while the maids quickly draped the table and set it with silver and china. The footman reappeared with another table, and the process repeated itself.
“He wanted to know about Maddie,” Aunt Butty said in a low voice.
Something like a cold chill skittered its way down my spine. “Why? She’s nothing to do with this.”
“Apparently, she’s the only one they haven’t questioned yet. And she’s nowhere to be found. Have you seen her?”
“Not since this morning,” I admitted. She’d been gone when we’d returned from the garden, but I hadn’t given any thought to it. I hadn’t needed her assistance, after all, and took no issue with her filling her time in other ways, as long as she was available when needed. “Perhaps she has...made herself scarce. Not everyone is comfortable talking with the police.” And Maddie definitely wouldn’t be. Especially not after I’d told her about the spy.
“True,” Aunt Butty agreed. “Though she has your protection, and avoiding Willis only makes him the more suspicious. As if that poor girl would have anything to do with whatever nonsense is going on.”
I was in full agreement, but well aware the police wouldn’t be. “This must have to do with the whole spy situation. I can’t see any way around it. Too many coincidences.”
“Agreed.” Aunt Butty gave a nod that nearly upset her hat. “Though I still find it strange there’s a spy in Devon. London I could understand, but we’re practically in the middle of nowhere.”
At that moment, Harry deVane appeared on the top step, a pipe clenched between his teeth, observing his domain. He’d one hand tucked in his jacket pocket and clutched the pipe with the other. “Butty, my darling!” he crowed, pulling it out of his mouth and waving it about. “What a glorious day.” He descended the flagstone steps at a leisurely pace.
“If you can call being grilled by the police glorious,” Aunt Butty said drily.
“Really, old gel, it’s nothing to get alarmed about.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek before taking a seat at our table.
“You don’t consider a robbery alarming?” I asked.
He shrugged. “These things happen. What can one do?”
These things did not happen. Well, it wasn’t that they never happened, but that this particular example was...unusual.
I opened my mouth to ask what had been stolen but was interrupted.
“Is it luncheon yet? I’m half starved,” Chaz declared as he appeared from around a hedge. He strolled across the lawn and took the final seat at our table. “I do hope Mrs. Bates has managed something appetizing.”
“I’m sure Cook has a glorious repast,” Harry assured him. “I told Mrs. Bates to give her free rein.”
The other guests drifted over—abandoning the croquet—taking places at the other tables. I caught snippets of conversation, but no one seemed unduly upset by the morning’s kerfuffle. Miss Semple was whining about the police wasting her time, but otherwise, no one seemed upset.
Jarvis appeared along with the footmen and a couple maids laden with trays. We were promptly served cold pork pies and beef sandwiches on lovely fresh baked bread with tangy horseradish cream and fresh tomatoes—no doubt from Harry’s kitchen garden. This was followed by another lovely summer pudding made with fresh berries and sweet cream. Divine. I ate more than my fair share, I’m not ashamed to admit. The cold lunch was a perfect accompaniment to a hot day.
The conversation was a bit of a disappointment, however. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t manage to overhear any interesting conversations. And try as she might, Aunt Butty couldn’t get Harry to confess the truth about what was really going on or what had been stolen from his study. Instead, he steered the conversation to reminiscences of their past. Which, under normal circumstances might have been interesting, but as things were, I simply couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the mystery before me.
Worst of all, in the back of my mind, I’d started to truly worry about Maddie. It wasn’t that I believed she had anything to do with the break-in. The idea was preposterous. But her disappearance was too coincidental, and I’d no doubt Willis would look askance upon it. And her.
I needed to find Maddie tout suite. Before she ended up at the wrong end of a police investigation.