Death at Wentwater Court (17 page)

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Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: Death at Wentwater Court
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“He weighed me down, upset my balance. I kept slipping and sliding on the packed snow and I was terrified of letting him fall, leaving
an inexplicable hollow in the untrodden snow to either side of the path.
“I got him down to the bank, though he seemed to grow heavier and heavier. I had to lay him down to take a breather, and I thought I'd never be able to lift him up again. The moon was high by then, reflecting brightly off the snow. I felt as conspicuous as a beetle on a sheet of white paper. If anyone had looked out …
“I picked up the body in my arms, heaved myself to my feet, and set out across the frozen lake. Beneath the double weight the ice creaked and groaned, and I kept thinking how ironic it would be if two drowned bodies were found in the morning.
“I didn't dare go right to the edge of the hole. I knelt down and rolled him towards it. I couldn't believe everyone for miles didn't hear the splash when he fell in.” Geoffrey faltered. “He sank, and I thought he'd stay down, but that leather jacket of his—with the belt and tight cuffs and fastened up to the chin—it trapped air like a balloon. I nearly fainted when he bobbed to the surface. Thank God he was face down. Thank God!
“Somehow I made it back up to the house, through the side door, and up the back stairs. By then her bathroom door was locked. I went to bed and tossed and turned for hours before I fell asleep. Yet when I woke in the morning, I didn't remember any of that horror until I went into my bathroom and saw Astwick's crimson dressing-gown hanging on the back of the door.
“All I wanted was to get away from the house. I went riding—and when I came back, the police were here.”
“We didn't talk about it,” Annabel said. “Not even once. It was too risky, and I suppose I wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. Besides, there really wasn't anything to say. We had done all we could to keep scandal from your family, Henry. It wasn't enough.” She hid her face in her hands. “Now we'll all be dragged through the courts. The whole world will be convinced of your wife's …”
“No!” cried Geoffrey. “You need not come into it at all. We'll
make up a story. We'll tell them I quarrelled with Astwick over money or something, and he drowned in his own bath, not yours.”
“The police know Astwick was pursuing Annabel,” said Lord Wentwater, passing a weary hand over his face. “They know you attacked James to defend her, Geoffrey.”
“They know he's in love with me,” whispered Annabel.
The earl groaned. “I still cannot bring myself to believe that my son is in love with his stepmother. I'm not sure which appalls me more, that, or his killing a man, a guest in my house.”
Huddled in the wing chair, Geoffrey seemed to shrink.
“Remember, Henry, he did it for me!” Annabel reproached her husband.
“And not on purpose,” Daisy reminded him, “and Astwick was a villain.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry, my boy, I'm having difficulty trying to take it all in. Of course, it was unintentional, and Astwick richly deserved punishment, if not to meet his end.”
“Will I have to go to prison, Father?” Geoffrey asked fearfully.
“I don't know. It can't be called murder, surely, but manslaughter … ? I don't know the penalties. Criminal law has never been one of my interests. I'll stand behind you all the way, you may be sure. You shall have the best lawyers in the country. We'll ask Hugh's advice. He will know who's best, what we ought to do first, whom to approach.” Lord Wentwater stood up and moved towards the bell-pull, cheered by the prospect of a practical course of action.
Not murder, Daisy thought, but would the police believe it? Would a jury believe it?
Even if Geoffrey was found innocent, or convicted of manslaughter, would sensation-hungry journalists believe the verdict and persuade their readers of its truth? There would always be those who were certain that the earl had used the influence of his title to save his son from the gallows. Mud always stuck.
Not only to Geoffrey. Suppose some reporter, not satisfied with
scandal easily acquired, dug up the secret from Annabel's past that had allowed Astwick to blackmail her. Annabel would be ruined, her marriage and her life destroyed.
Overwhelmed with guilt, Daisy couldn't bear the possibility that she might be responsible for so much misery. If only she had more time to think up some way to prevent it! Once Alec came back and arrested Geoffrey it would be too late.
I
have it!” To Daisy, her plan appeared gloriously inevitable in its simplicity, the solution to every problem—as long as Alec didn't come back too soon.
Lord Wentwater's hand hesitated on the bell-pull.
“Listen!” Daisy, jumped up from her chair. Three faces harrowed by emotion turned to her. “Listen! I have the most utterly spiffing idea you've ever heard. Do go ahead and send to ask Sir Hugh to join us, please, Lord Wentwater. We shall need him, and we must hurry.”
“Hurry?” asked the earl with a frown, ringing the bell. “I fear a hasty and ill-conceived scheme can only lead to further disaster.”
“At least let Daisy tell us her idea, Henry,” Annabel proposed, a light dawning in her dark eyes.
“I can't see how things could possibly be any worse,” said Geoffrey dully.
“Let me explain,” Daisy begged.
“Of course, Miss Dalrymple.” Lord Wentwater's habitual courtliness prevailed over his mistrust. “I beg your pardon if I seemed to reject your assistance. We are in need of any help anyone can offer.”
“Everything comes together so neatly it must be Fate,” said Daisy. “Geoffrey must …”
She was interrupted by the arrival of Drew himself. The butler's
outward stateliness was unimpaired by the troubled times the household was passing through. Yet Daisy sensed a certain commiseration in the swift glance that swept over the gathering in the study.
Nothing but deference was apparent in his tone. “Your lordship rang?”
“Please tell Sir Hugh I should be glad of a word with him in here.” The earl looked at Daisy and shrugged slightly. “At his earliest convenience. And, Drew, bring glasses.”
“At once, my lord.” Bowing, the butler withdrew.
Reminded of the brandy his father had poured him, Geoffrey reached for the glass and finished it at a gulp. A tinge of colour crept into his pallid cheeks. “What must I do, Miss Dalrymple?”
“Go abroad. I suppose you have a passport?” she asked anxiously as the others gasped.
“Yes, I went climbing in Austria last summer.” He stared at her, hope restoring the vitality and resolution to his youthful features. “But …”
“You would have my son running from justice?” said Lord Wentwater harshly, hauteur in every inch of his tall, stiff-necked figure. “He will stay and take his punishment like a gentleman.”
“Henry, no!” Annabel protested. “He didn't mean to kill Stephen, and it was all for my sake, for
your
sake.”
“It's not only Geoffrey,” Daisy reminded him. “Can you stand aside and let your private life be made public? Let James's conduct become common knowledge?”
“James!” he groaned.
Inexorable, she continued, “Let Annabel be pilloried in the papers?” She was rather pleased with her rhetoric.
His shoulders sagging in defeat, he returned to his chair, took Annabel's hand, and said remorsefully, “Forgive me, my love.”
“Never mind that,” she soothed him. “Let's just think of how to send Geoffrey abroad in a hurry.”
“I'll do whatever you say, Father,” Geoffrey promised.
“I'd say go, but it's impossible. However fast we move, the police
will have plenty of time to close the Channel ports, and I believe the French police work closely with ours these days. If you somehow escaped the net here, you would simply be arrested in France.”
“Not France,” said Daisy, impatient with his pessimism. “Not the Channel. Not
Europe.”
She stopped with a frustrated sigh as Drew came in again.
“I sent a footman to request Sir Hugh's presence, my lord.” He set a tray of glasses, bottles, and decanters on the desk. “Shall I pour the drinks, my lord?”
“No, thank you, Drew.”
“Does your lordship desire anything further?”
“No!”
the earl snapped impatiently, then retrieved his calm courtesy with an effort. “No, thank you, that will be all for now.”
“Very good, my lord.” A hint of reproach in his bow, the butler once again departed with his ponderous tread.
As the door clicked shut, three eager faces swung towards Daisy. “Where?” they demanded as one.
“Brazil.” Daisy savoured their astonishment. “It just so happens that I know the S.S.
Orinoco
sails from Southampton this afternoon, for Rio, and there will be at least two empty berths aboard.”
“This afternoon?” Lord Wentwater pulled a gold hunter from his fob pocket.
“At three.”
Annabel and Geoffrey turned to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. Though Daisy felt as if a century or so had passed since she stepped out of bed, it was not yet noon.
“Southampton's only about thirty-five miles,” said Geoffrey, and added wonderingly, “Brazil! But what shall I do when I get there?”
“That's the beauty of my plan,” said Daisy with pride. “Sir Hugh owns vast plantations of rubber and coffee in Brazil. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a job.”
“I will, will I?” said Sir Hugh's dry voice behind her. He entered the study, followed, to everyone's dismay, by Lady Josephine.
“What's going on, Henry?” she asked plaintively, her plump face alarmed.
“It's all right, Jo,” said her brother as he and Geoffrey rose to their feet. “Nothing that need concern you. I'll tell you about it later.”
“You needn't think you can hoodwink me.” Not to be fobbed off, she settled in Lord Wentwater's chair in a determined way and patted Annabel's hand. “Maybe I can help.”
While they argued, Daisy whispered to Geoffrey, “There's no time to waste. You'd better go and find your passport and pack a few things.”
Nodding assent, he whispered back, “Is it all right if I say goodbye to Marjie and Will?”
She frowned. “I suppose so. Yes, of course you must, but for heaven's sake try not to tell them anything. Don't let them ask you questions.”
“Right-oh.” He slipped out, oddly enough no less unobtrusive for being the centre of the present storm.
Lady Josephine had won the argument simply by refusing to budge. “So you might as well just tell me what's going on,” she reiterated.
Lord Wentwater sighed. “Miss Dalrymple, will you be so good?” Abandoning the floor to her, he moved to the desk to pour drinks.
Daisy turned to Sir Hugh. The baronet had watched with mild amusement his wife's quarrel with her brother. “Yes, do please explain, Miss Dalrymple,” he invited, his tone affable but with an authoritative note.
“First, Sir Hugh, let me ask if I'm right in thinking you can employ Geoffrey in one of your South American concerns. Because if not, there's no need to trouble you further.”
“It's possible,” he said cautiously.
“Of course you can, Hugh,” Lady Josephine insisted. “Only a few months ago you found a position for Mr. Barnstaple's cousin, and Geoffrey is your own nephew. Or mine, which comes to the same thing.”
“Very true, my love, but young Barnstaple was not fleeing the law, which, unless I'm greatly mistaken, is young Geoffrey's problem.”
Lady Josephine's round, pink face crumpled. “Oh, Daisy, is that what it is?”
Daisy decided candour was the best policy, though she had no intention of revealing the full story. If Annabel and Lord Wentwater wanted the Mentons to know all, they could tell them at a later date.
“I'm afraid so, Lady Jo. He was responsible for Lord Stephen's death, though it was entirely unintentional. He was just trying to protect Annabel.”
“The dear boy! Breaking up the ice was a simply marvellous scheme. If only the rotten bounder hadn't drowned, he'd certainly have left Wentwater with his tail between his legs after falling into the lake. Too too mortifying, like a careless schoolboy!”
Daisy didn't disillusion her. The fewer people who knew that Astwick had drowned in the bath, the better. “So, you see, if Geoffrey doesn't go away, there will be a trial and the newspapers will make up the most frightful stories.”
“As sure as night follows day,” Lady Josephine agreed with a shudder.
“And if he does go away … ,” Sir Hugh began in an ominous voice.
“I'm sure the police will decide to let the matter drop, to treat it as an accident,” Daisy hastily interrupted, her fingers crossed behind her back and a prayer winging its way heavenward. So far she'd been too busy putting her plan into action to dwell on possible consequences. “But he must be gone before Chief Inspector Fletcher returns, which he may at any moment. Luckily there's a ship sailing from Southampton at three.”
Everyone turned to consult the clock. The hands stood at a quarter past twelve.
“It could be done,” said the baronet reluctantly.
“It
will
be done,” Lady Josephine declared. “Don't be difficult, Hugh dear. Astwick was an absolute wretch and the world should be grateful to Geoffrey.”
“Very well.” His decision made, Sir Hugh was all business. “I'll take the boy to Southampton in my motor. Henry, would you send a message to Hammond to bring the Hispano-Suiza round at once, please? I must telephone my agent in Southampton to arrange passage, and write a letter of credit for Geoffrey. He'd better carry a recommendation to my Rio agent with him, too, though I'll send full instructions by wireless later. May I use your desk?” He was already moving towards it, taking his fountain pen from his pocket.
“There's notepaper in the second drawer on the left.” Lord Wentwater had rung the bell. Now he cleared the desk of the tray of drinks and stood holding it, looking rather helpless. “Miss Dalrymple, where did Geoffrey go?”
“I thought he ought to go and pack.” She took the tray from him and in turn deposited it in the hands of the butler as he entered. “Please get rid of this, Drew.”
“Yes, miss.”
She glanced back. The earl had turned away to listen anxiously as his brother-in-law asked the telephone operator to look up his agent's number and connect him.
“And, Drew,” Daisy continued, “tell Sir Hugh's chauffeur to bring the Hispano-Suiza to the front door. At once.”
“At once, miss.”
“There's no sign of the Chief Inspector, is there?”
“No, miss.”
“Thank heaven.”
The imperturbable butler's eyebrows twitched. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
“No, thank you. But tell Hammond to
hurry.
”
As Annabel and Lady Jo were talking quietly together, Daisy followed Drew out of the study and sped off upstairs to find Geoffrey.
She knocked on his bedroom door and entered in response to his subdued invitation. The room was sparsely furnished, its most notable feature a shelf displaying gymkhana trophies: blue, red, and white
rosettes and engraved silver cups. A Stubbs horse and groom hung on the wall opposite the bed, and several lesser paintings, drawings, and photographs of equine beauties completed the decor.
Geoffrey had retrieved two large, brass-studded, leather portmanteaux from the boxroom. They lay open on the bed, half filled with coats and trousers. Tactfully ignoring his reddened eyes, Daisy helped him stow away the contents of his chest-of-drawers.
“You needn't worry about when you arrive in Rio. Sir Hugh is writing a letter to his agent, and he'll wireless him, too. You'll have a job to go to.”
In a strangled voice, Geoffrey blurted out the thought that tormented him. “I'll never see her again.”
“No.” She had no comfort to offer.
“I'd almost rather go to prison, if it weren't for dragging her through the courts.”
“You couldn't do that,” said Daisy urgently. “You absolutely must go.”
“Yes, I know.” He blinked hard. “It's best, really, that we don't meet again, isn't it? I put her in an impossible situation.”
Her throat tight, Daisy nodded. She had been no older than Geoffrey when she fell in love with Michael, not much older when the telegram came announcing his death. Though he now existed only in her memory, the memories still hurt. How would Geoffrey ever begin to heal when the woman he worshipped still lived, so far away? She couldn't dismiss his pain as a youthful infatuation he'd soon get over.
In silence they continued the hasty packing. Daisy had just folded a warm pullover—he'd need it on board if not in Brazil—when she heard a sound.
“Listen!”
Footsteps in the distance rapidly approached along the corridor. Just outside the bedroom door they halted. Geoffrey froze, his hands
full of balled socks, and Daisy sank onto the bed, her heart in her mouth. Too late! The police had come back.

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