Our Lady of Pain (15 page)

They worked on it with soap and then with oil, but the ring stubbornly refused to move. “You could put a bit of mercury on it and then break it,” suggested Daisy.

“I cannot do that! I’ll just need to wear it. Yes, Hunter, what is it?”

“The dressing gong has sounded,” said the lady’s maid.

“Oh dear,” sighed Rose. “I am so tired of having to change my clothes six times a day, but Aunt Elizabeth, despite her eccentricity, is a stickler for the conventions. Choose one of the velvets, Hunter, and a shawl. The castle has become so cold.”

Dinner was a silent affair. Aunt Elizabeth had periods when she did not feel like talking at all and did not welcome conversation from anyone else.

At least the wind was blowing in the right direction and the great fire kept the room warm.

As the first course was served, Rose felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She looked around. Aunt Elizabeth had not hired another butler, and three footmen were on duty to serve the dinner. Rose saw one she had not seen before. He was a youngish man, tall and thin, with a white face, dusty fair hair and blue eyes.

She waited impatiently until they had retired to the drawing room and asked her hostess, “Who is the new footman?”

“Just some English lad who came looking for work. He has excellent references. He worked for the Countess of Sutherland before this, but his mother in Dunoon fell ill and died, and when he returned to work it was to find he had been replaced.”

“I do not know why,” said Rose, “but he makes me feel uneasy.”

“Now, listen to me,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Young gels are apt to exaggerate. I am sure you lost your footing and fell in the Seine.”

“What about the note?”

“Oh, that. Probably some prankster.”

“Aunt Elizabeth, two women have been murdered!”

“But what kind of women, hey? Tarts, that’s what. And that sort of creature is always getting into trouble.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue further, but then decided against it. She feared Aunt Elizabeth might become angry and send her away.

That night, she tossed and turned, wishing the shrieking wind would abate. She wondered about that new footman. He wasn’t exactly young, perhaps in his early thirties. But Aunt Elizabeth had said he had good references. If only Harry would return.

She remembered there was a bookcase in the drawing room. The castle did not boast a library. Perhaps it might be a good idea to read herself to sleep. She got out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown, lit her bed candle and went out into the corridor and down the stairs. She began to experience that earlier feeling of unease. Her candle threw great shadows up on the stone walls as the flame streamed in the draught. The fire was still lit in the drawing room. The sound of the wind was less than it was upstairs. She lit an oil lamp, chose a copy of an old favourite,
The Master of Ballantrae,
and settled down in an armchair by the fire to read. After an hour, her eyelids began to droop. She closed the book, extinguished the oil lamp, lit her bed candle again and made her way back upstairs.

When she went into her room, she stiffened. There was a foreign smell in it, a smell of sweat. Rose hurried to Daisy’s room and woke her up.

“I want you to come with me, Daisy. I went downstairs to the drawing room to read and while I was away, I think someone entered my room.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming.” Daisy got out of bed and picked up a brass poker from the fireplace.

They lit all the lamps in Rose’s room and looked around. “What made you think someone had been in here?” asked Daisy.

“There was the smell of sweat.”

“Can’t smell anything. Why would anyone come into your room?”

“I’m worried about that new footman. Remember how those letters were hidden in my luggage? Perhaps someone has tried to hide something incriminating.”

Daisy stifled a yawn. “All the trunks and hatboxes are down in the storage room.”

“Think, Daisy. If you wanted to hide something, where would you put it?”

“In the wardrobe there, among your clothes. What about your jewel box?”

“It’s locked and Hunter has the key.”

Daisy longed to go back to bed, but Rose looked so frightened that she said, “I’ll look in the wardrobe and you look under your pillows and places like that.”

“Nothing here,” said Daisy after awhile.

“Try the pockets. Oh, let me.”

Rose searched feverishly through the pockets of various costumes and coats. She came to an old tweed coat she often wore when she was walking along the cliffs and plunged her hand into the pocket. Her fingers encountered something hard and smooth. She pulled it out. “Look at this, Daisy!”

It was a necklace of black pearls, smooth and heavy.

“Isn’t it yours?”

“No. Oh, Daisy, what if it belonged to Dolores? I remember they said certain items of her jewellery had been stolen. Don’t you see? Someone is trying to implicate me in the murder again. I’m sure it’s that footman. I’d better rouse Aunt Elizabeth.”

Aunt Elizabeth was annoyed at being awakened. At first she tried to persuade Rose that it was merely a piece of jewellery she had forgotten about and Rose had pointed out that no woman could forget the possession of a genuine black pearl necklace.

“I am sure it’s something to do with that new footman,” she said. “Please, please rouse the servants and have him brought here. The police will need to be called.”

“Very well. Anything so that we may get back to sleep.” Aunt Elizabeth pulled on the bell rope beside her bed. The first to arrive was her lady’s maid, Queen.

“Rouse all the servants from their beds and bring them down to the drawing room,” ordered Aunt Elizabeth.

They waited until all the servants in various stages of undress had gathered. “Now,” began Aunt Elizabeth, “did one of you put a pearl necklace in the pocket of a coat in Lady Rose’s wardrobe?”

The head footman, Jamie, stepped forward and said crossly, “We’ve all been in our beds, my lady.”

“Where’s that new footman, what’s-his-name?”

“Charlie. He’s here. Step forward, Charlie.”

But Charlie, who had been standing at the back of the group, had disappeared.

Now thoroughly alarmed, Aunt Elizabeth cried, “Search the castle, search the grounds. Get the stable staff up and the keepers and water bailiffs. Get them out on the moors. I want him brought back here. Tell John keeper to ride over to Inveraray and tell the police to come here immediately.”

Rose, later looking out of the castle window, saw figures bearing torches streaming out across the moors. Please catch him, she prayed, and let this all be over. Then she worried that Aunt Elizabeth might prove to be like the duchess in Paris and decide she did not like being near someone who caused such upheaval.

Harry, arriving with Becket the following morning, having driven through the night, saw, to his dismay, a policeman standing on guard outside the castle door.

“Now what?” he muttered under his breath.

Becket was too tired to care. He felt he had been unable to spend any proper time with Daisy since their honeymoon.

Harry strode into the castle demanding to know the reason for the police presence. Jamie, the footman, told him they were all in the drawing room and Harry went up the stairs as fast as his bad leg would allow.

A police inspector rose as he entered the room. “I am so glad you are back,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “May I present Inspector Macleod. Inspector Macleod, Captain Cathcart.” She indicated a portly gentleman seated by the fire. “And this is our Lord Lieutenant, Sir Edwin Godfrey. Sir Edwin, Captain Cathcart.”

Harry shook hands with both of them. He smiled at Rose. A shaft of sunlight shone on the ring on her finger. Despite his fatigue, he felt a surge of gladness that she was unharmed and that she was wearing his ring.

Then he turned to the inspector. “What has been happening?”

He listened carefully to the story of the pearls. “But we can’t find hair nor hide o’ the fellow,” ended the inspector. “The policeman in Golspie went up to Dunrobin Castle early this morning and the Countess of Sutherland’s butler there said he had never heard of this so-called footman. I believe you have been working on this case.”

“Yes, and I have some more news. Dolores Duval was actually Betty Biles, brought up in the East End of London. Her father was English and her mother French. Father, it seems, was a bit of a brute. When Dolores—I will always think of her as Dolores—was fifteen, her father was going to sell her to a local businessman. No question of marriage. The mother had died. Dolores ran away. The father owned a small grocery store. Dolores had taken the money out of the till. She must have gone straight to France. Now, there is a brother, Jeffrey. What did this footman look like?”

Rose gave him a description. “That sounds like the description we had of the brother. No one has seen him for a long time. As he seems to be hell-bent on putting the blame for the murders on Lady Rose, he must have committed them himself.”

“But to kill his own sister!” exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth. “Why?”

“As her next of kin, he would inherit unless she had left her money and property to someone else. That is why Madame de Peurey was killed, I think. How he can hope to inherit anything now that we are on to him, I don’t know.”

“If Lady Rose had not felt there was something wrong with him, he could have stayed and played innocent. I am sure he meant to inform the police anonymously that she had the pearls,” said Harry. “And the police might have begun to think it was one coincidence too many.”

“I think you had better begin at the beginning,” said Inspector Macleod, “and tell me the whole story.”

So Harry did, ending up by saying, “That is why Lady Rose is staying here, for her safety.”

“I do not think he will dare come near the castle again,” said Aunt Elizabeth.

“I will telephone Superintendent Kerridge,” said Inspector Macleod. “All the railway stations and ports will need to be watched. I will send the pearls to him by special courier. He will want to send them to the new fingerprint bureau.”

“I wonder if he had been in service anywhere,” said Harry.

“May we ask that head footman of yours, Lady Carrick, and see what he thinks?”

Aunt Elizabeth pulled the bell rope. Jamie, the head footman, entered immediately. “I’ve told you not to listen at doors,” snapped Aunt Elizabeth.

The footman looked hurt. “I wouldnae dream o’ it, my lady.”

“Anyway, Jamie, we want your impressions of this footman, Charlie. Did he know his job?”

“Aye, we didnae have to explain duties to him. He’d done it afore.”

“That’s a good place to start,” said Sir Edwin Godfrey. “He sounded English, did he?”

“Aye,” said Charlie. “He said his family were Scottish but had moved south when he was a wee lad.”

Harry noticed Rose looked shaken. He went quickly to her and took her hand.

“Do not worry,” he said. “Now we know who he is and we have a good description, we’ll get him now.”

She smiled shakily up at him. “I am glad you are wearing my ring,” he whispered. Rose somehow could not bring herself to tell him that she was wearing it because she had merely tried it on and could not get it off.

There was a more relaxed air about the castle now that the killer was being hunted down. Surely he could not get away now. The following day, Harry, Daisy and Becket went to Inveraray and Rose telephoned her mother.

Lady Polly was frosty, to say the least. “I am very tired of hearing about your adventures, Rose,” she said. “Mrs. Blenkinsop’s gel is marrying Sir Peter Winde, handsome and rich. Everyone of your generation is marrying well except you. I hoped that convent would have drilled some manners and modesty into you.”

“Mama, I—”

“I want to have a severe talk to you when you return. Your odd relationship with Cathcart has been disastrous. We were in Cairo and the season there is very good. Perhaps next year. Lots of marriageable men, although with your reputation you will probably have to settle for a widower or someone much older. I am very disappointed in you. We had such hopes.”

“If that is all you have to say,” muttered Rose, “I may as well ring off.”

“What?”

“Goodbye.”

Rose put down the receiver and emerged from the box brushing tears from her eyes.

“Bad time?” asked Daisy, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“I fear my mother is sadly disappointed in me,” said Rose.

“There now. Everything will work out all right, you’ll see.”

“Trouble?” asked Harry, walking up to them.

“My mother is angry with me,” said Rose. “I suppose it is only to be expected.”

Becket said, “If you could spare me a few minutes of your time, sir.”

“Go ahead,” said Rose. “Daisy and I will take a little walk.”

“What is it, Becket?” asked Harry as he admired Rose’s slim figure as she walked away.

“Captain, me and Daisy were wondering if you could see your way to setting us up in a little business.”

“I suppose I must. Can you wait until this case is over?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What sort of business?”

“Daisy wanted that dress salon, but that’s off the cards now. I wanted a pub, but Daisy really wouldn’t like it.”

“I often have more work at the detective agency than I can handle,” said Harry. “I could extend the business to take in you and Daisy. You both have worked with me on previous cases. Why the long face? Oh, I know. Do not worry. I will find you both a tidy apartment somewhere. Daisy can work a few months and then retire as a married lady before the baby arrives.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.”

“Then let us rejoin the ladies. I think my ring looks very well on Lady Rose’s finger.”

“I said I would help them with it later.”

“Help them with what?”

“Lady Rose was trying it on and it’s stuck on her finger and they can’t get it off.”

“I should have known,” said Harry, half to himself.

Daisy was elated when Becket told her the news about their future. Both were so happy that they failed to notice that Harry appeared to be sunk in gloom and that Rose kept casting anxious little glances in his direction.