Tuesday evening
When she got back from Broughton Park, Bob told her she could leave tomorrow, and Addie held onto that plan like a bright and shining beacon. She skipped drinks in the drawing room, not looking forward to making more irrelevant small talk, or worse, the kind of existential maunderings death always unearthed. One became obsessed with one’s own mortality, wondering if one would even be mourned when the Grim Reaper arrived.
No matter how well-lubricated the other guests got beforehand, dinner was another awkward affair. Hugh joined them tonight, resplendent in his dinner jacket. Evelyn, in black velvet this time, had dug into her pearls, and was modestly accessorized. Addie eschewed her green gown for the purple dress she meant to wear Sunday night, along with her amethysts. The twins gleamed under the lights as usual; Iris Temple was distinguished in trailing dark gray chiffon; and the gentlemen were suitably attired. If one dropped in from Mars, one wouldn’t have any inkling the party’s hostess died two days ago.
There was one unexpected face at the table: Juliet Barlow, who wore a severe black jersey dress with a diamanté clip at the shoulder. Hugh asked her to join them to even out the numbers. Unfortunately, Lucas was still missing, so they were still odd.
The elephant in the room. No one said anything about his absence, which made it worse somehow. The murderer was breathing a sigh of relief, since all fingers pointed to the vanished viscount.
She was alliterative again, but there was a certain ring to the appellation. It would make a good mystery title, wouldn’t it? The Vanished Viscount. Or The Viscount Vanishes? Maybe when this was all over, Addie would try her hand at writing the sort of book one could curl up with in bed, a mug of tea on the bedside table, and a dog at one’s feet. The heroine would be a nearsighted duke’s daughter with a naughty Airedale. Might as well elevate her consequence while she was at it. Enlarge experiences all around.
There would be no ghosts.
“You’re smiling, Lady Adelaide. It can’t be from the convivial company—the house is like a morgue,” Captain Clifford said quietly.
“I just had a silly thought. I’m sorry I’m not holding up my end of the conversation.” Margie was on her left, busy competing with her sister across the table to capture Owen Bradbury’s regard. Why should the girl bother talking with another woman? An older one at that.
Addie had been measured and found wanting.
“I don’t mind. It’s hard to fathom why they’re going through the motions—the Fernalds, that is. I’d be as happy with a toasted cheese in my room. More comfortable too, out of my monkey suit. Even my uniform is less irritating.”
“This isn’t a very cheerful going-away party for you, is it?”
Clifford took a sip of wine. “It doesn’t matter about me. It’s Hugh I worry about.”
Addie glanced down the table. Juliet had been seated between the captain and their host, who was at the head, Bradbury opposite at the other end. Hugh had Juliet’s full attention, her facial expression solicitous, her words soft, her hand occasionally brushing the arm of his dinner jacket. Addie wasn’t the only one ignoring Dennis Clifford.
Evelyn protected Hugh on the other side. Simon Davies was between her and Iris Temple, so there would be no need for furtive looks and signaling tonight. Next came Mr. Cassidy, then Mandy Jordan. The twins were having better luck with Bradbury than they did last night with Lucas, and Cassidy was a bonus bachelor.
“Did you know Hugh before the war?”
“A little. Bradbury and Ainsley knew him better than I; they went to Eton together. They took pity on this Harrow boy and had my back. Their friendship means the world to me. Saved my life, literally.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like.” Rupert told her a tale or two but had been mum with the specifics. Of course, he wasn’t in the trenches like the Four Musketeers; he’d been flying high, far away from the mud and blood, strafing and dropping bombs with what Addie hoped was accuracy. “Will you be sorry to leave your friends and England behind?”
Clifford shrugged. “For King and Country. The army is my life. I have no family to miss—my parents have passed, and I haven’t been lucky enough to find a helpmeet. We—Michael and Owen and I—envied Hugh, despite all he’s suffered, if you can believe it. We were a little in love with Pam.” Addie had difficulty hearing him over the chatter and clink of forks against china, but his face said it all.
Was Clifford one of her admirers? Was Pamela “a little in love” with him?
“It’s a dreadful shock about Lieutenant Ainsley,” Addie said, fishing.
“The whole week so far has been shocking. Let’s talk about something less gruesome. Are you a fan of moving pictures? Looks like I’m going to miss the latest Charlie Chaplin next week. I wonder if they have theaters in India.”
Curses. Foiled again. “My maid is completely addicted. Last month all she could talk about was the plot to kidnap Mary Pickford in Los Angeles. One would think she was family.” Addie rattled on about Beckett and her movie magazines, which were frequently strewn all over Compton Chase. Clifford seemed gratifyingly amused, but she did all the talking.
Breaking her mother’s rule. So much for finding out more about him.
Addie switched gears. “I haven’t seen that detective all day. Do you know how he’s getting on?”
“That detective? I thought he was a friend of yours.”
She felt a blush coming on. “We’ve…ah…met in the course of two investigations. I wouldn’t say we were friends.”
His eyes were pale gray, and sharp. “Then the rumors aren’t true.”
“What rumors?”
“Oh, someone mentioned something. I must have misunderstood.” He said it with such a smile that she was meant to be reassured.
She wasn’t. Addie knew a woman’s reputation was everything, even if she was anxious to compromise it a few months ago. Why were men allowed their flings? Look at Rupert, rutting around the countryside, still accepted everywhere.
Except in her bed. In the last year of her marriage, she lived like a nun without the shorn head and wimple.
“He has been nothing but professional,” Addie said a bit grandly.
“You lucked out you weren’t here when Michael disappeared. What a cock-up the local constabulary made of that, and the brass after them. I grant you, Hunter is a cut above, and pretty shrewd, I’d guess. If yesterday’s questions were annoying, today’s beat them by a mile. One was ready to confess to any number of crimes.”
“And what are you guilty of?” Addie teased.
“Good lord, I’m rusty when it comes to the Ten Commandments, but I must have broken at least half at one time or another.”
Do not covet thy neighbor’s wife. But Pamela did her fair share of coveting too.
“Mr. Hunter is very thorough.”
“I’ll say.”
The footmen removed the dishes and passed the next course. Addie was getting full and decided a toasted cheese would have done very well for her too. She overindulged with her sister earlier and would pass on dessert.
Maybe she could find the inspector after dinner and fill him in on what she knew. Which was nothing, really. Her sister and Ian hadn’t heard from Lucas. Hugh’s friends had a crush on Pamela. Juliet had designs on Hugh.
Would he tell her anything of significance? Probably not.
“Did Mr. Hunter mention when you can leave?” Addie asked.
“Owen and I have decided to stay on to support Hugh. The funeral will be held on Friday if all goes as scheduled. I think the general consensus is that we’ll all be here for it. Even the Jordan twins.”
They must have guilty consciences, or realize how stupidly selfish they’d sounded, wanting to go off to have fun while their host was grieving.
Addie wasn’t seeking fun but longed for her own bed and some privacy. “Beckett and I may go home and then come back for it. Compton Chase is not very far away.”
“You’ll be missed, Lady Adelaide.”
She doubted it. It wasn’t as if she’d exerted herself to be charming, even before Pamela’s death.
Obediently, but with some reluctance, Addie followed Evelyn to the drawing room after dinner for coffee with the other women, leaving the men to their own devices. They paired off immediately, Evelyn waiting for the tray with Iris on one sofa, and the sisters sitting together on another. Addie was left no choice but to try to make Juliet feel at ease. Now that Hugh was nowhere near, she’d deflated significantly.
Addie sat down next to the governess on a rather spindly chair on the far side of the room. “How is John?”
“Fine. We finally went riding this afternoon. He couldn’t concentrate on his studies.” She fingered the fake gems at her shoulders as though she could turn them into diamonds by her touch.
“I should think not. Do you think he’ll still be sent away to school?”
Juliet glanced at Evelyn, who was busy whispering to Iris. “You should ask his grandmother. No one cares what I have to say.”
“I take it you don’t approve.”
“It’s what Pam wanted. And what Pam wanted, she got. It will take a while for the household to realize they don’t have to march in lockstep with her anymore.” She tossed her head back in some defiance. “I know that sounds unkind. But Hugh spoiled her dreadfully—horses and rare plants and the usual jewels and furs. She had everything, and it never was enough.”
Now Addie was getting somewhere. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve said too much already. But Pam wasn’t who everyone thought she was, certainly not the perfect wife. She fooled everyone.”
“Perhaps you should talk to Inspector Hunter.”
“Why? I don’t know who killed her.”
“But you have your suspicions, don’t you?”
Juliet flushed, but shook her head. “It’s none of my business. But I will say it’s not the tragedy everyone makes it out to be.”
No, Juliet wasn’t sad at all.