Destroying Angel (10 page)

My interview with Lily Craid was something of a let-down. It was heartening to know that the lack of a reference from Hubert had not put off the Duchess, who presumably had better latches on her windows, but my hope that this visit would provide an excuse to see something of the Castle’s grand interior was not to be.

I was being passed through a series of long narrow corridors by a series of high-nosed retainers – very lofty in countenance – before my bicycle, which had received some hard looks, was removed to be parked outside. It was handled very gingerly, in a manner that suggested that it might be a carrier of the Bubonic plague.

At last we reached the servants’ quarters, where I was finally unceremoniously pushed rather than ushered into Lily’s presence by a stout downstairs maid with the words; ‘Woman to see you, Lil. Don’t let her keep you from your work, mind, or Her Grace will give you whatfor.’

Lily was seated at a well-scrubbed table in one of the kitchens, the surrounding walls bristling with gleaming copper pots and pans. Invited to take a seat, I soon realised that her position of sewing maid to the Duchess related to an overflowing basket of linen, presumably containing torn petticoats, dropped hems, garments to be altered, mended
or patched, and buttons to be replaced.

Seeing her engaged in this activity recalled Mrs Robson’s laments over her loss. I wondered if this was one of her noble employer’s socks she was busily darning, and whether His Grace shared in common with the humbler members of the male sex a tendency to thrift, not to mention downright meanness, concerning undergarments and socks.

She greeted me nervously after the ample housemaid left us, obviously not used to receiving visitors. I introduced myself, saying that I was writing an article on the dangers of level crossings for a Newcastle newspaper.

This explanation seemed acceptable, but I had a feeling that Lily was either shy or reluctant, or both, to recall the past and, indeed, looked most uncomfortable when I asked what her feelings were on the subject?

‘I knew it was dangerous, all the Staines folk thought so, and they all said it should be better guarded or done away with altogether when the pit closed down.’

Trying to phrase my words carefully, I said, ‘I realise it is a painful subject for you personally, since your father met with such a tragic accident. You must have been terribly shocked.’

She gave me a wry look. ‘Shocked yes, but not surprised. Not really. My pa was a firebrand, always talked too much and drank too much as well,’ she added bitterly. ‘He could be an interfering old so-and-so and he certainly made things worse for me, not better, up at the house – when I had to leave.’

Although I knew already, she obviously wasn’t going to elaborate on the reasons why, so I said, ‘You were happy there. Were you not the personal maid to Miss Kate?’

At the mention of Kate her face froze. Looking away from me, she concentrated on her darning.

I persisted. ‘No doubt being near in age, you were good friends.’

She thrust aside the sock, clasped her hands together, and said indignantly, ‘Whoever told you that, missus, was quite wrong.’ Nodding vigorously, she added: ‘I was only a servant and I knew my place.’

‘Perhaps I got it wrong.’

‘You certainly did that.’

I changed my tactics. ‘How did you get along with her sister Amy?’

‘Never knew her sister. She was older,’ was the sharp response.

I knew I could not stumble on in this clumsy fashion so I returned to the subject of the level crossing, made some more notes and left her. I felt she was relieved to see me go.

As I recovered my bicycle and headed back to Staines, I was disappointed, unsure of what I had expected regarding Lily, but one thing was clear. She accepted her father’s death as an accident. It had certainly never occurred to her, knowing her father’s fiery nature, to think that someone might have wanted to be rid of him. And for a man known to drink too much, the level crossing seemed to provide an admirable assassin.

I decided my next step would be to see how best I could engineer an interview with her husband, the chess player.

A fine smell of cooking greeted my arrival in the Staines kitchen. Mrs Robson was making soup.

‘Mushroom,’ she said, holding up the ladle. ‘Sir loves it – a special treat, his favourite. What a morning we’ve had.
The mushrooms are at their best at this time of the year. We all turn out with our baskets. There’s a special place in the wood over there. Mind, you have to be up early for the best ones.’

So that was the explanation for why I had breakfasted alone.

‘Even Collins came and gave us a hand. And she doesn’t like leaving her bed early. A right sleepyhead she is in the mornings.’

And remembering the angry sounds of quarrelling that had awakened me during the night, I felt Mrs Robson had a point. After such a disturbed and distressed night, Collins must have felt dreadful plunging out into the morning mist to collect mushrooms.

Thane had spent the day with Wolf and was now back with Kate, who sat by the window with Collins. When Thane greeted my arrival like a prisoner on reprieve, they were jolted from their earnest conversation, their guilty expressions giving me the uncomfortable feeling that I had been the subject under deep discussion.

As I left with Thane to take him for his long-awaited walk, Collins followed me out. At the top of the stairs she said, ‘I hear that Hubert has asked you to marry him.’

I was taken aback by her blunt statement. Who had told her? It must have been Hubert himself, and I think I blushed furiously, but words failed me and I could think of no denial or indeed of any response.

She seized my arm, and for a moment, I panicked. I had a horrible feeling that she was going to push me over the banister, for her face was livid with fury.

‘Don’t fool yourself that he is in love with you and that’s why he wants to marry you. He’s only marrying you because
you’re young and he thinks you will be able to give him a son, to cut out Kate.’

And pausing to give me a triumphant look, she sneered, ‘That’s all. A son is what he needs most in all the world. Remember love hasn’t anything to do with it. He could never love a woman like you. But anyone would do.’ Her look as she said the words reduced me to something she had trodden in on her shoe.

‘Once you have given him a son, he’ll be off again, leaving you stranded. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she added shrilly. ‘I know him well; I know what he’s like.’

I was suddenly angry. This was none of her business, or was it? ‘Then why doesn’t he marry you?’ I said.

She laughed. ‘That’s easy to answer, Mrs Clever McQuinn. It’s because I can never have a child. We’ve both known that for long enough,’ she added bitterly.

I pushed away from her and went downstairs with her leaning over the banister, watching me. Still trembling as I left the house with Thane, I was furious, but tried putting myself in her place. As Hubert’s discarded lover (and had I not suffered a similar fate all too recently with Jack Macmerry?) her venom and spite were understandable, especially realising that had she become pregnant, he would have married her.

It didn’t do Hubert any credit, though, that they had had a showdown last night and he had told her what he intended. I felt pity, too; a woman’s pity for Collins. I knew all about loving blindly. And I was furious at Hubert’s presumption that I would change my mind and marry him.

Thane didn’t seem eager to go to the stables after our walk, which was shorter than usual. He seemed tired, possibly the effects of spending all day with Wolf, trailing the white cow
about to drop her calf. When I returned to the house for dinner, he had followed me, a little distance away. As I walked up the steps he rushed forward and his eyes begged to stay.

‘What’s wrong?’ I patted his head. ‘You’ve missed me today, is that it? Very well. Stay in the hall with the two dogs while we have dinner. Then I promise you another walk together.’

He wagged his tail delightedly, his mouth open in that strange approximation of a human smile, and as I entered the dining room, he sat down obediently beside Hubert’s Labradors.

As I took my seat at the table there was an uneasy feeling in the air; a strange atmosphere brought about by the darkening sky, a room colder than usual and those unforgiving eyes trapped for ever in the Staines family portraits.

Suddenly I wished with all my heart that this interlude in my life and this assignment that had been forced upon me was ended. I longed to be free of them all, and most urgently wanted Hubert’s blackmailer apprehended so that Thane and I could head back to Edinburgh, myself richer by two hundred guineas.

The events of the day had upset me, especially that scary meeting with poor Collins. I hadn’t the heart to be angry. I could feel only sympathy when I thought of her
broken-hearted
by her lover’s cruel revelation. Especially when I looked at Hubert, so complacent and uncaring, talking to Wolf Rider as if the white calf and estate finances were the most important things in the world. Which they probably were, to him at least, at that moment.

Mrs Robson came in to light the table candles, followed by
Collins with bowls of soup on a tray. Kate had remained in her room, so Collins was giving Mrs Robson a hand in the kitchen, which was probably an unusual occurrence as she would normally be preparing her charge for bed.

She set a bowl before Hubert with a more restrained hand than might have been expected, in the circumstances, which to anyone knowing the full facts would have better suited her flinging it in his face.

‘Well done, well done, Mrs Robson,’ he said without thanks or even a glance at Collins. And, holding up his spoon, ‘My absolute favourite soup.’

Collins placed another bowl beside Wolf, one for herself, and the last was for me. All in silence, then she took her seat at the table.

Hubert murmured something about
bon appetit.

I had just raised the spoon to my lips when Mrs Robson, opening the door to leave, was almost knocked down by Thane, who rushed in past her.

‘That dog!’ she screamed, staggering against the door. ‘He has no business—’

Thane ignored her, bounded towards me, leapt up and, his paws on the table, sent the bowl of soup crashing to the floor.

I jumped up unscathed. It had all happened almost in the twinkling of an eye, and none had spilt on me. I grabbed Thane, yelled at him, looked at the others helplessly. I didn’t know what to do.

Such behaviour was quite out of character, and was to be expected from an untrained puppy, not from Thane, who always knew his manners.

‘I can’t understand it,’ I was apologising, as Hubert said shortly, ‘Roswal was never like this in the past. He should be
better controlled. We can’t have dogs leaping at the table, knocking plates on the floor. Very unseemly behaviour. Not at all what we expect,’ he added, hinting that Thane’s sojourn with me was to blame.

Shocked by this scene of chaos, Mrs Robson rushed out and reappeared flourishing a mop. Wolf, meanwhile, was gathering up the fragments of broken china.

‘Not one of our best sets, Mrs Robson,’ Hubert said wearily as, looking flustered and cross, she pushed Wolf aside and said, ‘I’ll do that, Mr Rider,’ and looking up at Hubert, she added, ‘No, Sir, not the best, but it does still make one short. I don’t like that. It spoils the setting.’

Hubert flung a reproachful glance in my direction, hardly able to restrain his anger at this disruption of his normally tranquil supper.

‘Do take Roswal away, Mrs Robson. When you’ve finished mopping, that is.’ And to the rest of us, he added wearily, ‘I can’t think what has come over him.’ Another stern glance indicated that I had been a bad influence on his lost deerhound and that such shocking behaviour might be the norm in Edinburgh dining rooms but not in Staines.

‘Shall I take him back to the kennels?’ Wolf asked.

Hubert made an irritated gesture. ‘Later. Mrs Robson will put him in the hall with the other two. Now, let’s get on with our meal, for heaven’s sake.’ And placing his hands on the table, he said, ‘Come along, it’s only a broken bowl, not the end of the world.’

That endearing smile appeared again as he patted my hand. ‘You all right, my dear?’ As I said I was and began to apologise, I saw Collins glaring at me from across the table, her eyes full of hatred. Her hands trembling, she picked up her
spoon while I tackled the soup Mrs Robson had replaced before me.

I still couldn’t understand Thane’s eruption into the dining room. It was so unlike him, and could not be excused by his having missed me all day. I shook my head. It was as if he had reverted to a moment of reckless puppyhood.

I got the explanation, however, when I went out to the stables later, wanting to reassure myself that he was all right. Wolf was with him.

‘Just as well you didn’t take that soup, Rose.’

‘What on earth do you mean? Was it poisoned or something?’ I asked with a laugh.

In reply he shook out the contents of a table napkin. ‘This is Destroying Angel, one of the
Amanita
species, the deadliest kind of mushrooms. Had you eaten these tiny pieces, you would be dead by now.’

What he held out looked as innocent as the white of a hard-boiled egg. I stared at them in horror. ‘You mean someone tried to poison me with these?’

He nodded. ‘I mean exactly that.’

‘That can’t be true! What about the others? – all of us were having the same soup.’

He shook his head. ‘I cannot answer that. But I know all about poisonous mushrooms and I can tell you that no one experienced in gathering the edible kind would have made that mistake. There is no doubt that this was put in your bowl deliberately.’ He turned and patted Thane’s head. ‘But you knew, didn’t you, clever Thane. You knew with that extra sense of yours that the soup was poisoned and someone was going to kill your beloved Rose.’

Thane wagged his tail, gave us a look of triumph, and
opened his mouth in that almost human smile.

‘Who – who do you think…?’ I asked