Death at Wentwater Court (18 page)

Read Death at Wentwater Court Online

Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: Death at Wentwater Court
4.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
The bedroom door edged open. Marjorie's face peeked around it. In her relief, Daisy felt positively lightheaded—and increasingly aware of a sense of desperate urgency.
M
arjorie came into the bedroom. “Geoff! It's true, then. You're leaving?”
Wilfred was close behind her. “So it was you who bumped him off, old fellow. A spiffing piece of work. Congratulations!”
Marjorie tearfully hugged her brother and Wilfred shook his hand with a vigour astonishing in so languid a young man. Daisy regarded them with exasperated resignation.
“I hope you two can keep your mouths closed,” she said crossly, dumping a last load of shirts into one of the portmanteaux and closing it. “Come on, quick, we must get these down to your uncle's car.”
Geoffrey fastened the other and effortlessly set both on the floor.
“I'll carry one,” offered Wilfred, and attempted to lift the smaller of the two. With an effort, he raised it an inch or so. “Too many late nights,” he said with an uneasy laugh. “Well, boxing's not for me but perhaps I'll take up riding.”
“Take care of Galahad for me,” said Geoffrey abruptly, his head down as he picked up the portmanteaux and made for the door.
“I will, old man, I will.” Wilfred's eyes were suspiciously bright. “I expect I'll be spending more time down here, don't you know. Town palls on one after a while.”
“Now I know Annabel better,” said Marjorie, “I'll come home more often, too.”
Daisy followed Geoffrey and Marjorie out into the corridor. Behind her, Wilfred drew in a sharp breath and groaned. “Oh Lord, what now!”
He was looking ahead down the corridor. Daisy peered past Geoffrey's bulk. James stood in the doorway of his bedroom, watching them, his heavy jaw set, his face stony.
Coming abreast of him, Geoffrey hesitated. Then he put down a portmanteau and offered his hand. James simply stared for a moment before, with obvious reluctance, he gave his brother's hand a brief shake. Without further ado, he stepped back into his room and closed the door.
However unsatisfactory, Daisy was glad for Geoffrey's sake that he had made the gesture of reconciliation. Among the regrets that would haunt him, he'd not have to remember parting from James in anger.
“I'll jolly well have to spend more time at Wentwater,” said Wilfred quietly as they turned into the cross-passage. Thoughtful and rather pale, he looked daunted by the prospect of trying to compensate his father for the loss of two sons.
“Lord Wentwater told me he believes you are not without redeeming traits,” Daisy informed him. She knew what it was like to be compared with a sibling and found inadequate.
“High praise,” he snorted, but he seemed relieved.
As they descended the stairs to the Great Hall, a footman rushed to relieve Geoffrey of the portmanteaux. “The motor's out front, Mr. Geoffrey. Mr. Drew just went to tell his lordship.” With a quick glance behind him, he leaned forward and hissed, “Us in the servants' hall all wants to wish you God speed, sir.” Straightening, his nose in the air in proper footmanly fashion, he lugged the portmanteaux across to the front door.
The Wentwaters and the Mentons came into the hall from the east wing. With a cry of distress, Lady Jo swooped on her erring nephew
and enveloped him in her substantial embrace, to his uneasy embarrassment. Daisy moved back, out of the way of the family's farewells. She had intruded enough—more than enough—on their troubles.
Kissing Geoffrey's cheek, Lady Josephine allowed her husband to tear her away. Geoffrey turned to Annabel.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered, head hanging.
She took his hand in both hers and whispered something in his ear that made him raise his chin and stand tall and proud as he faced his father.
“I'm sorry, sir.”
“My dear boy, if you hadn't …” Lord Wentwater left his sentence unfinished. He shook his son's hand with the grave propriety of a gentleman parting from an acquaintance he expects to meet again at no distant date. But then he turned away from the others and Daisy caught a glimpse of the deep sorrow he couldn't quite conceal.
Geoffrey distracted her, coming up to thank her heartily for her help.
“I do hope all goes simply swimmingly from now on,” she said, reassured that her interference was valued. He was not yet out of the woods, though. “You really must buzz off before it's too late,” she urged.
Behind him, she saw Hammond in his chauffeur's uniform, peaked cap in hand, consulting with Sir Hugh. A sudden alarm sent her hurrying to join them.
“We are ready to leave, Miss Dalrymple,” said the baronet dryly. “Have you any further instructions for carrying out your enterprise?”
“Yes,” she said, unabashed. “For heaven's sake avoid the Winchester road.” Not wanting to explain before the chauffeur, she was relieved when Sir Hugh nodded his understanding, with a wry smile.
It would be altogether too frightful if, on their way to Southampton, they met Alec on his way back to Wentwater.
Everyone went out to the front steps to wave goodbye. Sir Hugh and Geoffrey stepped into the long, sleek, midnight blue Hispano-Suiza
with the silver crane in flight on its bonnet. Hammond took the wheel. Smoothly swift, the motor-car swept down the drive, over the bridge across the lake, and away.
He was gone. Daisy breathed a deep sigh as the silent group returned into the house. She had got him safely away and his fate was out of her hands now. Thank heaven Alec had not come back too soon!
But now she had all too much leisure to wonder how on earth she was going to face Alec after thwarting him of his prey. However justified she felt herself, he was bound to be absolutely livid. The whole scheme had been hers; she couldn't leave it to someone else to tell him that Geoffrey was well on his way to Brazil.
Dreading Alec's arrival, nonetheless she was beginning to worry about his continued absence. Constable Piper had left hours ago to find him. Surely the arrest of a presumed murderer must take precedence over the recovery of even the most valuable loot? He ought to be here by now. Suppose he had caught up with the burglars, and they turned out to be a gang of violent ruffians, and he had been hurt?
Ghastly images flitted through Daisy's mind as she dropped onto a chair by the hall fire, drained of energy.
Phillip wandered in, disconsolate. He brightened when he saw her. “What's going on, old bean?” he asked. “Hang it all, where has everyone disappeared to?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Daisy, “Geoffrey has disappeared to Brazil, but keep it under your hat, won't you?”
“You're ragging me,” he said without resentment.
“No, Phil, I'm far too fagged to rag you.”
“Brazil, eh? Plenty of good opportunities out there.”
“I hope so, though that's not quite why he's gone.”
“Oh, I see. I think. The poor prune left in a bit of a hurry, what? The busy's not back yet?”
“If you mean Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher,” she said reprovingly, “no, he's not. I can't help wondering whether something dreadful has happened to him.”
“Not to worry, old dear. Coppers have nine lives, like cats. I just hope he doesn't turn up to bring a hornet's nest about our ears until after lunch.”
“Lunch!” Daisy sat up straight. “Of course, that's what's wrong with me! I didn't have any breakfast. I'm starving.”
Fortunately she didn't have to wait long before Drew came in to ring the gong for lunch. Despite her hunger, before dashing to the dining-room she remembered to entreat the butler, “I know it's not correct, but
please
let me know the
moment
Chief Inspector Fletcher arrives. Before you tell his lordship or anyone else. I know what to say to him.”
“Very good, miss,” Drew promised, with what almost might have been an approving look.
Throughout lunch, Phillip, Lady Josephine, Wilfred, and Marjorie kept up a flow of social chitchat, though now and then one of the latter pair would fall silent for a few abstracted minutes. Both Annabel and the earl were conspicuous by their absence.
So was Alec when coffee in the drawing-room brought the meal to a conclusion. Daisy's concern for him warred with the hope that he wouldn't turn up until after the
Orinoco
had safely put out to sea. She was prepared to employ delaying tactics, but she'd much prefer not to have to try to mislead him. Remembering his piercing gaze, she wasn't at all sure she'd succeed.
Four of the five in the drawing-room kept glancing surreptitiously at the clock. When Daisy caught herself at it for the third time (five past two), she decided to go and see Annabel. However, when she left the room she met in the passage a footman sent by Lord Wentwater with a request for a few minutes of her time. She entered the study with some trepidation, afraid that he might have changed his mind and decided his son must face the music, regardless of the consequences to his wife.
He was seated at the desk, writing. When he looked up, she was shocked by the deep lines in his drawn face. His hair and moustache seemed to have grown much greyer, aging him by ten years since she
first met him just three days ago. He rose to his feet with a visible effort.
“Miss Dalrymple, I just wanted a few words with you. I hope I haven't interrupted your work.”
“I haven't even tried to work today. I'd never be able to concentrate. Actually, I was on my way to see Annabel.”
Whatever he had intended to say was forgotten. He leaned heavily on the desk with both hands, staring down at the papers he had been writing on, though Daisy was sure he didn't see them. “Annabel needs your friendship more than ever,” he said painfully. “She still doesn't trust me. There is still something she won't confide to me.”
“Do you want me to talk to her about it? I will, if you will come up and wait in your dressing-room. I can't promise anything, but if she chooses to make a clean breast of it, I'll fetch you.”
They went upstairs together. Lord Wentwater retreated into his dressing-room and Daisy went on to Annabel's boudoir. She found her pacing the floor, white-faced and distraught.
“Daisy, I don't know what to do. Perhaps I should go away. I've brought Henry nothing but disaster and I can't bear it, waiting for the next blow.”
Daisy drew her to the chaise-longue by the fire and sat down beside her, an arm about her waist. “Henry loves you, and Astwick's gone for good. There won't be a next blow.”
“There might be.” Tears trickled down Annabel's face. “That's the awful thing. Other people know what he knew, and any one of them could take it into his head to tell Henry.”
“Then why don't you tell him? Your fear of confiding in him hurts him far more than anything you did in the past possibly could.”
“Do you think so?”
“I'm certain. He's waiting in his dressing-room. Will you let me bring him to you?”
Annabel clutched Daisy's hand. “You'll stay? You won't desert me?”
“If that's truly what you want,” she demurred though by now she was dying of curiosity.
“It is, oh, it is.”
She went to fetch the earl. His face brightened as she said, “Annabel has agreed to speak to you.”
“Miss Dalrymple, how can I ever thank you?” He was already past her and into the corridor.
She scurried to keep up with his long strides. “She wants me to be there with her.”
“Anything!”
“She's more afraid of giving you pain than anything else, but I think she's also afraid you might cast her off.”
“Never!” He burst into the boudoir and went straight to sit down beside Annabel, pulling her to him with a possessive arm about her.
Daisy retreated to a chair by the window as Annabel clung to her husband, sobbing into his shoulder. “Oh, Henry, it's all my fault, all this misery …”
“What utter nonsense. Haven't I already said that you're in no way to blame for Astwick's villainy and its consequences?”
“But I am! If I'd been brave enough to tell you, then he couldn't have blackmailed me …”
“Blackmail!” thundered Lord Wentwater. “The devil was blackmailing you? If I'd known, I'd have cut his throat with the Queen Elizabeth dagger, without a qualm.”
She raised an adoring face to him. “Then thank heaven you didn't know. But if I'd never done anything to be ashamed of …”
“My darling, I doubt there are any in this world can truly say they have never done anything they regret. And I think I can guess … What a fool I've been!”
“You can't have guessed, Henry.” Annabel once more buried her face in his shoulder. Daisy barely caught her words. “I wasn't a widow when you met me. You see, Rupert and I were never married.”

Other books

Dark Prince by Christine Feehan
Modern Girls by Jennifer S. Brown
Jimmy by Malmborg, William
Trio by Cath Staincliffe
Monster by C.J. Skuse
Cigar Box Banjo by Paul Quarrington
The Atonement by Beverly Lewis