The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) (15 page)

In spite of all the best efforts of Scotland Yard, Robin Haynes could not be found. No-one of his description had been apprehended trying to leave the country, or escaping to the North on the train, or hiding in a barn. His mother still claimed to have no idea where he was—not that anyone dared question her too closely. In fact, it was not until Inspector Jameson took over the business of talking to Ursula himself that even that slight admission could be drawn from her. For the most part the police contented themselves with keeping a discreet eye on her from a distance, since even the stoutest of English bobbies has been known to quail before a certain type of elderly lady.

Angela, meanwhile, went down to Underwood on the train, this time in the hope of speaking to Stella in private. As she approached the house, she encountered Mr. Briggs as he pushed a heavy wheelbarrow with difficulty across the lawn. He beamed as he recognized her.

‘
Good morning, ma’am,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Another fine day we’re having for the time of year.’

Resisting the temptation to offer to help him with his load, Angela returned his salute.

‘
I see you have managed to get the ivy looking beautifully neat,’ she said, gazing up at Donald’s bedroom window.

‘
Yes, and a devil of a time we had of it too—begging your pardon, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Young Thomas nearly came off his ladder more ’n once. He always was a foolhardy one, mind you. He’ll break bones before he’s much older, you mark my words.’

‘
Well, I’m sure Mr. Donald must be pleased to have a view out of his window again,’ she said. She was about to pass on when a thought struck her. ‘Wasn’t that Miss Christina’s room at one time?’ she said. ‘I believe you told me something of the kind.’

‘
That’s right, ma’am,’ replied the old gardener.

‘
Yes, Mr. Haynes was telling me her story the other day,’ said Angela. ‘It was all terribly sad, of course.’

‘
It was, ma’am. Mrs. Haynes, God rest her soul, was dreadful cut up about it. Some might say she never recovered, although it wasn’t until a few years later that she died.’

‘
I understand that Christina and her father did not get along at all well.’

‘
No, they didn’t. He was all for the de-
mewer
young ladies, was Mr. Haynes. By his way of thinking, they should all sit nicely in the parlour with their hands folded, looking pretty. But Miss Christina, she always was a wild one. She liked to run about in the woods and climb trees like a boy. I heard she used to swim in the lake, too—and I never saw a finer horsewoman.’

‘
Indeed? That must often have brought her into conflict with her father.’

‘
Yes, ma’am. My, how they quarrelled! And then he would shut her in her room to teach her a lesson, but there was no holding a girl like that.’ He snickered admiringly. ‘He never knew it, but she used to climb out of the window and shin down that very ivy what we’ve been talking about. Just like the ivy herself, she was—you could never keep her down.’

‘
She must have been a most enterprising young lady.’

‘
Yes, ma’am. She was that.’

‘
And then of course there was the final quarrel that led to her running away,’ said Angela carelessly, as though she knew all about it. ‘There was a young man involved, wasn’t there?’

Mr. Briggs looked surprised.

‘
Oh, so Mr. John told you that, did he? I thought they preferred to keep the scandal well hidden. Mind, there’s plenty of water flowed under the bridge since then, so I suppose he thought there was no harm in it, seeing as she’s long dead and there’s no-one can hurt her any more.’

Angela was gratified at her lucky guess.

‘
Who was he?’ she asked.

‘
A local lad from the farm yonder. Not one of her kind. Just like her wilfulness, it was, to pick someone she could never marry. She stood her ground, too—wouldn’t hear of breaking it off when her family found out about it. But it was all a mistake, and in the end he proved unworthy of her.’

‘
In what way?’

‘
Why, he put an end to it himself and near broke her heart at the same time. I did hear as Mr. Haynes bought him off, but I don’t know if there’s any truth to that. At any rate, shortly afterwards he died in an accident on the farm and by then it had all come out and it was too late for him to marry her even supposing they could have persuaded him to it.’

‘
You don’t mean she was in trouble?’

Briggs pursed his lips and lowered his voice confidentially.

‘
That was the rumour in the servants’ hall, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I can’t say whether it’s true or not. And of course, we never did find out because two days after her young man was killed, she climbed down the ivy for the last time and was never seen again around these parts. A few years later we heard she’d died.’

‘
And what about her child?’

‘
Nobody knows. Some said it had died at birth, some said it had been taken in by a wealthy family and some said there had never been any child at all. Choose whichever story you like, ma’am—I don’t know which is the right one.’

‘
Mr. John Haynes was dreadfully upset by the whole affair, I imagine.’

‘
Yes,’ said Briggs, nodding sagely. ‘They were mighty fond of each other, those two. He wasn’t so keen on his younger sisters and brother, Mr. John wasn’t—they were too much under the influence of their father, so there wasn’t much of what you might call sympathy between ’em. But he always looked after Miss Christina, his favourite, and I’m sure he would have taken her and the child in if he could have found them.’

‘
Gossiping again, Mrs. Marchmont?’ said Guy Fisher, appearing suddenly at Angela’s shoulder and making her jump. ‘Briggs, I ought to warn you now, this lady is dangerous. If once you let her get into conversation with you, you will find yourself giving away all your guiltiest and innermost secrets before you know it. Why, within five minutes of meeting her, I involuntarily confessed to her that, as a child, I had been caught red-handed stealing apples from our neighbour’s orchard and soundly beaten by my mother. She now knows my history as a common thief and won’t believe a word I say ever again.’

‘
You will have your little joke, Mr. Fisher, sir,’ said Briggs pleasantly. Taking the hint, he touched his hat and went on his way, pushing the wheelbarrow before him unsteadily.

‘
I take it from the smell of smoke in the air that they are having a bonfire today,’ said Angela.

‘
Either that, or cook has burnt the pudding again,’ said Guy. He spoke in his usual jocular manner but seemed distracted, as though he had something else on his mind.

‘
Has there been any news of Robin?’ asked Angela.

He roused himself with an effort and shook his head.

‘
No, none at all. Wherever he is, he’s gone to ground pretty thoroughly, I’ll say that for him. If you ask me, I think he got out of the country before the hue and cry was raised. At this moment he is probably strolling along the Promenade des Anglais in a regrettable suit, or sunning himself on a hilltop overlooking Rome, counting his ill-gotten gains with glee and congratulating himself on how clever he has been.’

‘
You sound as though you envied him.’

‘
Indeed I do. Not his ill-gotten gains, naturally, but all the rest. I have always wanted to travel to far-off places, but have never had the opportunity.’

‘
Shall you go abroad one day, do you think?’

‘
I hope so. I have glorious dreams of taking my pretty young wife on a grand wedding tour to Florence or Venice or Stamboul. That’s always supposing Ste—any woman should take leave of her senses for long enough to agree to marry me.’

‘
I’m sure there are many women of perfectly good sense who would be happy to accept you,’ said Angela, smiling.

‘
I used to think that myself,’ he said sadly, ‘but at the last tally I have been turned down by twenty-three women—or was it twenty-four? I’m not sure I should count Mrs. Harrison, who runs the tea-shop, but really, her scones were so delicious that I was moved by an overwhelming urge to propose. And now I really must go, or I shall find myself proposing to you too and then we shall fall out.’

He went off and Angela turned, laughing, to go into the house, but was brought up short by the sight of Donald Haynes striding towards her with a purposeful look on his face.

‘
I say, Mrs. Marchmont,’ he said. ‘Might I have a word with you about Stella?’

‘
Why, of course,’ said Angela in surprise.

Donald smiled briefly.

‘
Let’s walk away from the house where we shan’t be overheard,’ he said.

‘
Shouldn’t you be better off talking to Stella?’ suggested Angela. ‘I don’t know what I can tell you that she can’t tell you better herself.’

‘
But that’s just it—she won’t speak to me at all,’ he replied crossly, ‘and I don’t know what it is I’m meant to have done.’

‘
Don’t you? I thought you’d had a quarrel—something about her giving up work after you marry.’

He waved a hand.

‘
Oh, we quarrel about that all the time, but she knows very well that I should never stop her from doing it if she really wanted to. Besides, I don’t believe she
does
want to keep working, since she only threatens to do it when she’s in a miff with me. Listen, Mrs. Marchmont, you must be aware that Stella and I—well, we have known each other all our lives. We grew up together. We know each other as well as anybody can know another person. We are soul-mates. When we row, it’s nothing but a brother-and-sister kind of scrap. It clears the air and we laugh about it afterwards. But this is different. We had a fight about something or other a week or two ago and she won’t make it up, although goodness knows I’ve tried often enough to find out what it is that’s bothering her. Whenever she sees me she runs off. How am I supposed to win her over if she won’t even talk to me?’

‘
What was the last row about?’

‘
I’m not even sure I can remember. It was one of those “nothing” things, if you see what I mean. I said something in passing and she flared up and started accusing me of all kinds of mysterious transgressions that she wouldn’t name. But it wasn’t my sins themselves that offended her, so far as I could tell—no, believe it or not, it was the fact that I would not confide in her about them that exercised her. How could we get married, she said, when I was keeping secrets from her? She would stand by me through thick and thin, and she would see to it that I got all the help I needed, but she was damned if she was going to be shut out.’

‘
That’s what she said, is it?’ said Angela thoughtfully.

‘
I only wish I knew what I was supposed to have done. But she won’t tell me. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. I was hoping that you would talk to her on my behalf, at least to find out why she’s so angry with me.’

‘
But wouldn’t your mother be a more suitable person in this case?’

‘
Mother’s tried, but Stella won’t talk to her about it.’

‘
Then why should I have any more success?’

‘
She likes you—admires you very much. And besides, since you are an outsider she will find it easier to talk to you, as you ought to be free from any prejudice in the matter.’

Angela relented.

‘
Very well, I shall try,’ she said, ‘but I can’t promise anything. She may prove stubborn.’

‘
She’s that, all right,’ said Donald fervently. ‘But you are my last hope. After you I have—nothing.’ He raised his hands and let them fall.

‘
Don’t say that. I’m sure something will turn up. In fact, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she comes round after I have gone. I believe this whole affair—and especially my investigation of it—is making everybody in the house somewhat agitated and nervous.’

‘
Do you really think so?’ he asked eagerly, as though willing to snatch at any theory that might give him hope. ‘I say, now you put it that way—it’s not much fun for us all to have the police and detectives and what-not tramping around the place all the time, asking silly questions.’

‘
Thank you,’ said Angela dryly, but he paid no heed, caught up with this new idea. He turned to her.

‘
When—do you have any idea—I mean to say—’

‘
When shall I be gone? That is what you want to ask, I believe?’ she said, smiling.

‘
No—no, of course that’s not—’

‘
I quite understand. I should feel the same in your position, and between you and me, I shall also be very glad when this business is finished. I only agreed to do it because your mother was so very persuasive that I could not say no. I am not a detective, you know, and perhaps that is why nothing has yet been resolved.
Cave
the meddling amateur,’ she said with mock seriousness. ‘Far from helping, he may make things even worse.’

‘
Not at all,’ said Donald. ‘I know Mother is terribly grateful to you for all that you’ve done up to now—and it’s so much better than having the police here, and our names in the papers, and all that kind of unpleasantness.’

‘
Do you still wish me to speak to Stella, then, or should you rather try again with her once this is all over?’

‘
Yes, please do speak to her, Mrs. Marchmont. Who knows when this whole thing will be finished? It may take months, and by then—why, I don’t know—she may have found someone else who can give her what she wants.’

He did not mention Guy, but he did not need to.

‘
I shall talk to Stella now, if I may, then,’ said Angela. ‘In fact, she is the reason I came here today. I wanted to speak to her about something else.’

‘
She has gone into the village, but she will be back soon. Will you come into the house?’

‘
If you don’t mind, I think I shall walk down to the lake. I should like to reflect. I shall be back soon.’

She turned and headed towards the path that led through the woods. As she did so she saw Briggs again, hobbling across the lawn carrying something that looked like a bundle of old rags. He stopped as he saw her and held it up in exaggerated puzzlement.

Angela, since she was clearly expected to do so, obligingly asked, ‘What’s that?’

She moved to get a closer look. It was filthy and stained and burnt around the edges, but was nonetheless easily recognizable.

‘
Why, it looks like a dinner jacket,’ she said.

‘
And trousis too,’ nodded Briggs. ‘Somebody had shoved them under the heap of rubbish to be burned. I nearly died of fright, I did—I thought it was a tramp who’d gone to sleep under it all to keep warm, and there we’d gone and set ’im ablaze. So I started to drag it out and saw it weren’t nothing but a set of clothes.’

‘
But whose are they?’ asked Angela. ‘May I?’

She took what was left of the jacket gingerly and laid it out on the grass. A brief examination showed no laundry marks or other means of identification. A similar search of the trousers was just as unsuccessful.

‘
There’s nothing in the pockets,’ she said, and turned her attention to the sleeves of the jacket as Briggs looked on in polite mystification. ‘Hmm. Inconclusive,’ she said at last, then picked up the trousers and peered at the ankles. ‘They have obviously been wet and muddy at some time, but they could easily have got that way by being shoved into a heap of garden rubbish. I don’t suppose you know how long these clothes were there, Briggs?’

‘
No, ma’am,’ he said.

Angela reached a decision.

‘
These things must be kept,’ she said. ‘I shall take them myself. Briggs, take these to the house and have someone wrap them up in a parcel for me, but be sure and keep quiet about it.’

‘
Right you are, ma’am. And don’t worry, I shan’t breathe a word to the family,’ said the kindly Mr. Briggs, taking pity on poor Mrs. Marchmont, who was evidently in such reduced circumstances that she was forced to take whatever nasty old clothing she could scavenge from great folks’ houses.

Angela thanked him and departed, happily unaware that below stairs she was now marked out as a destitute, although it would in future occur to her to wonder occasionally why the servants all seemed to single her out for especially kind treatment and extra cake.