The high-pitched voices of Thea’s children increased the noise in the drawing room and brought a sense of energy. I wasn’t paying attention to their chatter until Paul’s voice carried across the room, “. . . we’ll be murdered in our beds,” he said with relish.
Rose’s chin wobbled, and Thea scowled at Paul. “No more talk of that.” She patted Rose’s hand. “No need to worry, dear. The police are here, and they’ll take away the person who did that horrible thing soon.” Thea’s gaze strayed to Gwen, who stood with her back to the room, but Gwen had heard the exchange. Her shoulders stiffened and red suffused her cheeks.
“Muriel,” Thea said and motioned to the open French windows. “Take the children to the garden. It will take their minds off things.”
Muriel was raising a fresh cup of tea to her mouth. She took a little sip, then set it down. “Yes, Mrs. Reid.”
“Remember, you don’t have to worry,” Thea said as she squeezed Rose’s hand again. Then Thea pointed a finger at Paul. “And no more statements like that from you, young man. You know they upset your sister.” Muriel herded the children outside through the other open French door. Their squeaky voices, a counterpoint to Muriel’s muted alto replies, faded as they moved away through the banks of flowers.
Gwen’s gaze was fixed on the garden as she said in a near whisper, “This is awful. If the police don’t find who really did it, suspicion will hang over Violet for the rest of her life. I’m going upstairs. I don’t care to speak to anyone right now.” Gwen left the room, pointedly avoiding Thea. But Thea was flicking through the pages of a magazine and didn’t notice Gwen’s snub.
With a frisson of anger simmering through me, I decided I’d better avoid Thea as well. I joined Lady Pamela and Sebastian. Lady Pamela turned her head slightly as I approached. “Oh, Olivia, isn’t it the most awful thing?”
Sebastian stubbed out his cigarette. “Don’t be a cat, Lady Pamela. Her name is Olive, as you very well know. I don’t know why you persist in these petty games. It doesn’t gain you anything.”
Lady Pamela smiled slowly at Sebastian. “You’re terribly direct. It will get you in trouble someday, I’m sure, but it’s rather attractive.”
“I always say exactly what I mean,” Sebastian said.
Lady Pamela pulled her attention away from Sebastian and said to me, “I’m all out of sorts. I do apologize, Olive.”
“I think we’re all out of sorts at the moment. It’s a terrible thing to have happened.”
Lady Pamela reached for a cigarette. “It’s certainly ruined the party.”
Sebastian took out his lighter. “Now there, I disagree with you. There’s nothing like a murder to add a little cachet to a party.”
Lady Pamela drew on the cigarette, then whipped it out of her mouth. “Now who’s behaving badly?”
Sebastian saw my face and added, “Of course it’s tragic and most unfortunate.”
“Yes, it is,” I said firmly. “Alfred didn’t have any family, did he? Will you be handling all of the arrangements?”
“The arrangements?”
“For the funeral. You were his godfather.”
Sebastian’s blasé manner slipped, and he actually looked uncomfortable. “I—well, I daresay I shall have to.”
Lady Pamela swept her hand through the air, leaving a trail of smoke. “Sebastian, you’re such a goose. You’d actually forgotten you were his godfather, hadn’t you?”
“No, my dear. I’ve been caught up in other things. Great geniuses like myself do that, you know. Total immersion in our work to the point that the rest of the world fades away.”
“Sounds lovely,” Lady Pamela murmured. “Perhaps I’ll become a genius. How would one go about it?”
Irritation prickled across my skin. They were treating Alfred’s death as a party game.
Sebastian looked away from Lady Pamela to me and amended his expression from frivolous amusement to something more somber. “I do apologize. I’m treating things far too lightly. You see, I don’t like reality. I prefer the artificial world of my studio. I can control everything there. It’s like being a little god—quite addicting. When the real world is too much, I retreat there. I go up to my darkroom and shut myself in. No one can bother me there. I’ve been developing photographs.”
His manner was still somewhat flippant, but I sensed an earnestness behind his words. I asked, “Is the darkroom part of your studio upstairs?”
“Yes. I’ll show it to you if you’d like.”
“I’d be interested in seeing it.”
The door opened, and James reentered the room. He crossed to Sebastian and whispered something in his ear. Sebastian pocketed his lighter and stood. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. I have an urgent call I must take.”
He left, and Lady Pamela’s gaze skimmed around the room. I knew she was looking for some way to escape from me. I said, “I suppose the police have already talked to you?”
“So tedious, all those questions. Where was I? How long did I stay upstairs? Who else did I see?”
“But all important.”
She lifted her shoulder. “I suppose.”
“You really don’t have any interest in knowing who killed Alfred?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It’s obvious. Violet did it.”
“Do you really think that?”
“Well, it seems the police do. In fact, I’m surprised Violet is still here. I thought they would’ve taken her away by now.”
“Did you actually see her in Alfred’s room?”
“No, the only person I saw upstairs was you.”
She seemed to enjoy imparting that detail. I was sure she’d also informed the police of it. I wondered if she’d gotten my name right.
I ignored the barb and asked, “And you didn’t hear anything from the balcony when you were changing your gown?”
“No. The doors to the balcony were closed in my room.” Her eyes sparked with interest as she really focused on me for the first time. “Why so many questions?”
“Because Violet didn’t do it.”
She laughed, throwing her head back, exposing the long column of her neck and the edge of a pointy collarbone. “Of course she did. Who else is there?”
“You.”
That wiped the smile off her face. “Are you accusing me of pushing that slick little social climber off the balcony?” Her voice was full of aristocratic hauteur.
“You were upstairs.”
“You are accusing me! I’m astounded. Me? You think I did it?”
“I’m merely stating you had opportunity as well as Violet. Why should the blame immediately fall on her?”
Lady Pamela’s lips curved into a little smile. “Because I am Lady Pamela Withers, and my father is Lord Harlan. The police will think long and hard before even insinuating I had anything to do with it. Violet is simply Violet Stone. Her father is only a baronet.”
“So because Violet’s family connections are not as impressive as yours, she must be guilty.”
“Exactly. Besides, I wasn’t the one who argued with Alfred. That’s common knowledge.”
I glanced around the room to make sure Thea was still absorbed in her magazine and no one else had entered. “But he was blackmailing you.”
She froze, one skinny arm raised to her hair. She stroked her hair away from her face. “If you repeat a word of that, I will vehemently deny it. And you have a lot less social standing than Violet. You’d do well to remember that.” She stood and stalked out of the room.
Thea closed her magazine and tossed it aside. “What’s gotten into Pammy?”
“I suppose we’re all a little on edge.”
“Yes, it has been a trying day.” Thea crossed the room and sat down beside me. “I want you to know that we all think Violet is a sweet girl and hope things work out for her as well as possible.”
“You mean we should hope the authorities are lenient?”
“Well, yes. I suppose that’s the best you can expect at this point.”
“There’s not a shred of real evidence against Violet. She had an argument with Alfred, and she was upstairs. But quite a few other people were there too, including you.”
“Me?” Her eyebrows disappeared under her heavy fringe. “I was asleep.”
I tilted my head to the side. “But can you prove that you were asleep in your room?”
Her gaze skittered around the room. “I suppose not.”
“Then you know exactly how Violet feels. I suggest you keep your insinuations to yourself. They’re particularly hurtful to Gwen.”
“But then that means if Violet didn’t do it, someone else here did.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
Thea’s hand went to the neckline of her dress. “That’s . . . such a disturbing thought. We may not be safe here.” She jumped up. “I must speak to Muriel about the children and call a maid to have our things packed.”
“I’m afraid no one is allowed to leave.”
“Not allowed to leave?” Her voice was shrill. “What do you mean?”
“Until the police complete their investigation, we all have to stay here.”
“Why that’s—that’s unacceptable. I’ll have Sebastian speak to the inspector.” She hurried off. I shook out my skirt and left the drawing room. I’d managed to offend two women in the space of less than an hour, but I didn’t feel much remorse. Their attitudes toward Violet were inexcusable.
I found Tug and Monty in the billiard room. They had given up their game and were sitting in club chairs, drinking whiskey. Monty offered to get me a drink, but I declined and sat down in another chair beside them. “Tug, you’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”
He looked a bit stunned. “Oh?”
“Yes. Did you spill a drink on Lady Pamela during the party?”
“Still complaining about that, is she?” Monty asked.
“It was a complete accident,” Tug said. “Someone hit my elbow, and before I knew it, I’d soaked her.”
Monty said, “She was furious.”
Tug snickered. “That’s putting it lightly.”
“You were there too?” I asked Monty.
“I wasn’t beside Tug, but everyone within about a thirty-yard radius heard Lady P’s screech,” Monty said. “Why do you ask?”
“I heard her gown had been ruined, and I was curious about what happened.”
Tug seemed to take my answer in stride, but Monty gave me a long look. He put down his drink. “I think I’ll take a stroll in the garden. Would you like to come with me, Miss Belgrave?”
“That would be lovely.”
As we left the room, Tug reached for the whiskey. I said to Monty, “I wouldn’t leave him alone with that decanter too long. At least, not if we want him to be coherent at dinner.”
“I’ll come back and put away the drink in a moment.” He stepped back so I could go through the door to the terrace first. We went down the steps and into the garden with its boxwood hedges and masses of flowers. Our feet crunched on the gravel path as Monty said, “The inspector from the Yard interviewed me.”
“Yes, I know. It seems we alibi each other.”
He smiled fleetingly. “Handy that we were together, wasn’t it? I am glad the police aren’t hectoring me as they are your cousin.” He turned and walked sideways as he asked, “Did they ask you about the cufflink?”
“No—well, Inspector Longly did ask me about jewelry, but he never mentioned a cufflink.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything to you, then. Well, too late now, isn’t it? I suspect that you’re the sort of person who will pester me until I tell you what I know, so let me save us both a great quantity of time and tell you. But first, I suppose you’d better swear not to tell.”
“I swear,” I said, feeling a bit like I was humoring a small boy.
“Good. I suppose that will do. When the police . . . er . . . checked over Alfred on the terrace, he was missing a cufflink. They searched all the flagstones and even the gardens nearby.”
“They must not have found it.”
“No, and I think it came off as he went over the balustrade.”
“Why do you think that? He could have lost it earlier during the evening.”
Monty shook his head. “No, he had both of them before he went off to find Violet before the fireworks began. He and I were talking, and he adjusted his cuffs. I saw both cufflinks. Later, before the police shooed me off of the terrace, I heard someone up above on the balcony pointing out a gouge in the stone. A long, deep scratch, he called it. Apparently they could tell from the position of . . . er . . . the body that it was where Alfred had gone over. The scratch was at that exact spot on the railing. They speculated a button or tie tack had caught on the stone as he went over. Shortly after, they went over—um—the body rather thoroughly. That’s when they noticed the missing cufflink.”
“What did the cufflinks look like?”
“Silver with his initials engraved on them.”
“When you saw the cufflinks, what part of the evening was it?”
Monty frowned. “Not long before the fireworks.”
“And was Violet with Alfred?”
“No, that was a bit of a sore spot with him, in fact.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I said something about him managing to get away from Violet—bit of a joke, you know, because they’d been dancing together all night. But he took it the wrong way. Bit off my head, actually.”
“What did he say?”
Monty tugged at his collar. “Don’t remember exactly.”
“Yes, you do. You don’t want to make me uncomfortable because it wasn’t flattering toward Violet, right?”
Monty sighed. “Yes, that was it. Said she was a pushy baggage.”
“Not flattering at all,” I said. Their conversation must have taken place after Alfred and Violet had argued while Violet was dancing with other boys.
We walked a few steps in silence. Why hadn’t Longly asked me about the cufflink directly? Monty linked his hands behind his back. “So you’re checking up on suspects?”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Perhaps.”
“There’s no perhaps about it. You’re conducting your own investigation, something the inspector wasn’t too happy with earlier today. He took out most of his frustration on Gwen.”
I grimaced. “That’s not what I intended.”
“So what have you found out?”
I considered for a moment whether I should tell him or not, but he was with me when Alfred was pushed off the balcony. We had both watched it happen from the lawn, so Monty couldn’t have been involved. “You must promise not to tell anyone else.”
“It’s juicy stuff, then.”
“That’s not a promise.”
“No, all right. I officially promise not to breathe a word of what you say—nary a syllable shall pass my lips.”
“That’s better. Violet and I went to London today and talked to Jane, a maid who left last night.”
The corners of his mouth turned down as he raised his eyebrows. “My, you have been busy.”
“Jane was well away from the house before Alfred was killed. But Jane, Lady Pamela, Thea, and even Gwen were upstairs—oh, and Muriel and the children as well. I wonder if Muriel let the children watch the fireworks or if she put them to bed . . .”
We circled around a flowerbed and headed back to the house. “My governess wouldn’t have let me watch the fireworks, but Muriel seems a bit more lenient.”
“That’s another thing I’ll have to check on.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing specific.” Unlike Inspector Jennings, I wasn’t about to air my suspicions until I had something to back them up. And I wasn’t going to mention Alfred’s blackmailing scheme either.
“You realize the police are set on your cousin as a suspect, but you disagree?”
“Yes, and I’m going to do everything I can to help Violet.”
“I can see that. Be careful.” He squinted at the gleaming white exterior of Archly Manor. “Remember, if you’re right, and I think you are—I don’t see Violet murdering Alfred—then someone in that house is a murderer.”