03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (10 page)

‘Oh,
Cedric, there’s that frightful story about the housemaid, isn’t there?’
exclaimed Lavinia. ‘Didn’t she arrange to meet her young man at the centre of
the maze one evening but he was called away on some job or other? And she
couldn’t find her way back out in the dark and got terribly lost in the maze
and noone knew where she was.’

‘Something
like that,’ agreed Cedric. ‘It happened a long time ago, some thirty or forty
years ago, I think. The story goes it was two days before she was discovered half
mad and dying of thirst.’

‘Yes, and
ever since then a copy of the plan of the maze has always been kept in the butler’s
pantry,’ said Lavinia, ‘because few of the servants knew how to find their way
through the maze and so it took simply ages to find her and get her out.’

‘I’d like
to see this maze,’ said Felix. ‘Can’t say I know what the one at Hampton Court
looks like.’

‘It’s
trapezoidal in shape, as is ours,’ said Cedric. ‘If you wait here, I’ll go and
get a copy of the plan from the library. There’s a sketch in one of the old
books about the house.’

Within
minutes, the young earl had returned with a large book bound in calf leather. Everyone
with the exception of Lavinia, Vera and Theo, gathered around Cedric with
varying degrees of enthusiasm so that they might look over his shoulder.

‘Of
course, you’ve both done the maze before, haven’t you?’ said Lavinia.

Her
question was directed to the engaged couple, who were standing as far away from
each other as possible. Although Vera, Rose noticed, was trying desperately to
catch her fiancé’s eye. But Theo was resolutely looking the other way, when not
looking down at his hands or staring at the floor. Rose assumed he was thinking
over what Cedric had said and considering what course of action to take.       

The
others stared at the plan, which was done in watercolours and ink. To Rose, the
maze looked like an inverted triangle with the tip cut away.

‘You
see,’ said Cedric, pointing down at the page, ‘one enters the maze here at the
bottom in the middle. Then follow the path round to the left, go all the way up
to the top, come back down again, almost as if you were retracing your steps,
along to the right, back up to the top, across to the right, down a bit and
then bear to the right, up again, go to the left, back around to the right and
then all the way down, and follow the hedge around until you go up through the
middle and reach the centre.’

‘Golly,
it sounds awfully complicated,’ said Emmeline, ‘I’m sure I’d get frightfully
lost like that poor maid.’

‘Not if
you had a copy of this plan with you,’ pointed out Felix. ‘If you take the right
path, you only go through a bit of the maze.’

‘Yes,’
said Cedric, ‘but one needs to hold one’s nerve. The temptation is to veer off
onto one of the other paths and get frightfully lost.’ 

‘Of
course Cedric and I know the maze like the back of our hand,’ Lavinia said with
some pride. ‘Don’t you remember, Ceddie, how as children we used to go and hide
in the middle when Mother wanted us to do something we didn’t want to?’

‘Yes, and
we used to take picnics there. One of the gardeners set up a small wrought iron
table and two chairs in the centre for us to use. They’re still there as far as
I know.’

Afterwards,
Rose wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t discussed the maze that
last evening. If talk had moved to other subjects, would the tragic events that
were to happen next day still have occurred? It was true that she had felt the
tension in the room, even if it was not as tangible as it had been the night
before. But when she finally went up to bed that night Rose had no sense of
foreboding. The last thing on her mind was death.

The
girl who called herself Emmeline Montacute woke up with a start. Although it
was still pitch black, for one awful moment she was afraid that she had
overslept despite using the old schoolgirl’s trick of putting a hairbrush under
her pillow to ensure that she did not sleep soundly. But that was the trouble
with December, it was so very dark. The majority of the day was dark, or half-light
at best. Full daylight brightness was scarce, existing for only a few precious
hours of the day. And half past five in the morning was not one of those hours.

She
switched on her bedside light and looked at her wristwatch to check the time. Good.
She had overslept by only ten insignificant minutes or so. No harm done. She
threw off her bedclothes, climbed out of bed and went to the window, where she
lifted the curtain and peeked outside. Even had it not been so dark and so far
away, she wouldn’t have seen what she was looking for. Because she realised
only now that her room was facing the wrong way. She shuddered, not only with
the cold, because really these grand old places were always so draughty, but
also because outside was as pitch black as she had been afraid it would be.
Really, the prospect of venturing out in the dark was most unappealing. She
thought back to the day before, and the end of the evening in particular, and wondered
how she had managed to convince herself to keep this secret assignation. She
assumed that the consumption of fine wines with dinner and the warmth of the
fires that had blazed in the fireplaces of the house, including in her own
room, had lulled her into a false sense of comfort, so that she had forgotten
that in the hours before daylight the house would be cold and dark, and outside
even more so.

But there
was nothing she could do about it now. Although of course really there was. She
had not after all given her word that she would be there, for she had been
given no opportunity to do so. The temptation to creep back into bed, pull the
bedclothes up to her neck and go back to sleep was very enticing. But she
thought back to those too brief moments during the previous day, when they had
whispered and giggled together, always careful lest they be seen or overheard.
It had all been exciting, a bit of an adventure even, and goodness knows she
had had little of that, cloistered as she had been in her overprotected
existence. She took a deep breath. It would be fun. And it wasn’t as if she
would have to clamber around in complete darkness. She had had the foresight to
procure an electric torch, and although she was not wholly confident that the
beam would be anything but feeble, it was surely better than having no light at
all.

Before
she could think better of it she threw on a thick tweed skirt and an angora
jumper. It was not the most becoming of outfits of course, but at least she
should be warm. Besides it would be well hidden beneath her blue serge coat
with its grey fox fur collar, which she thought became her rather well, even,
or perhaps especially, in the half darkness.

She
looked at her wristwatch again and then adjusted the collar of her coat. She
must be quick. In houses such as these the servants rose early, she knew, and
she had still to make her way downstairs without making a sound and to draw
back the bolts of the door that had been selected, being one of the few ones in
the house that did not also need to be unlocked with a key. But if she didn’t
look sharp she would find herself colliding with some poor scullery maid, who
no doubt would scream the place down and give their game away.

Quietly, she
opened her bedroom door and stood a moment listening before venturing out. Then
she flew down the stairs like a shadow, her hand all the while on the bannister
lest she fall or slip in the darkness. She felt most vulnerable crossing the
vast black and white tiled hall. How she longed to switch on a light or turn on
her electric torch, but it would be far too much of a risk. She consoled
herself with knowing that once outside it wouldn’t matter. Meanwhile she stole
through the house like some errant ghost. The door was located and she was
relieved to find that the bolts slid back with almost no sound. She stepped out
into the early morning, the cold air hitting her face and making her hesitate
for a moment, wondering whether to go on. Had she realised at the time that her
life lay in the balance, she would have stopped and thought more deeply before
venturing out. Instead she admonished herself for her cowardice and went to
meet her fate.      

‘Mrs
Farrier, Mrs Farrier!’ cried Dolly, running into the servants’ hall and
catching herself on the edge of the table in her hurry. Despite being excited,
she kept her voice down, for the news she had to impart was of a sensitive
nature.

‘What’s
the matter, girl,’ demanded the housekeeper, her head already busy with the
preparations for the day ahead, so that she did not give the maid her full
attention.

‘Miss
Montacute, Mrs Farrier. She’s not in her room. I knocked on her door as usual
and there being no answer, which didn’t surprise me as she tends to sleep
heavy, I went in.  But when I’d opened the curtains, after putting her cup of
tea down on the bedside table, I saw how her bed was empty. It had been slept
in, mind, because the sheets and blankets they were all twisted and ruffled
just like she’d been tossing and turning in bed. But there were no sign of
her.’

‘No need
to make such a carry on, Dolly,’ said Mrs Farrier briskly. ‘Like as not she was
in the lavatory, or perhaps she’s gone to have a chat with that friend of hers,
Miss Wentmore. Don’t you go making mischief where there’s none, my girl.’

‘I
checked the lavatory and the bathrooms and I went into Miss Wentmore’s room
next, to take in her tea, and she wasn’t there neither,’ protested Dolly. ‘There’s
no sight nor sound of Miss Montacute, really there isn’t, Mrs Farrier, and I
looked everywhere, so I did.’

‘Well,
perhaps you didn’t look properly, or perhaps she’s gone out for a bit of a
walk.’

The
housekeeper tried to keep the worry out of her voice. There was likely as not a
perfectly innocent explanation for the girl’s absence. She was not one to jump
to conclusions and fear the worst.

The main
thing was to give no hint to Dolly that she feared anything was amiss. Goodness
knew there was little enough between Dolly’s ears at the best of times but, while
she might lack sense, she wasn’t above gossiping with the kitchen and scullery
maids and other housemaids. And the housekeeper knew well from bitter
experience that once a rumour started, it had a life of its own.

‘That’ll
do, Dolly. Get on with your work now. And if I hear any gossiping on the matter
I’ll know where it started and you’ll feel the back of my hand, so help me, if
you don’t.’

Dolly
fled, quite frightened into silence, leaving Mrs Farrier to ponder over what
was to be done. Given the time of year and the darkness of the hour, it was
highly unlikely that Miss Montacute had gone for a walk in the grounds. It was
just possible however that she was in the room of one of the other young ladies
having a chat. Anything was preferable to the alternative, and she was relieved
to catch no hastily whispered words passing between the manservants concerning
the discovery of a woman in any of the gentlemen’s rooms when they were taken
in their morning cups of tea. Presumably the girl had had enough sense about
her to hide herself under the bedcovers or else lock herself into a convenient
dressing room or wardrobe before her presence was discovered and her character
ruined.

The
housekeeper tut-tutted to herself. She could have told anyone who cared to ask
her that there was going to be trouble. She had been forewarned. She knew it as
soon as her ladyship had informed her that guests had been invited to arrive on
the morrow. And not just any guests neither. An heiress and some sort of
foreign count, whatever that was, although from what country he originated no
one seemed to know or have heard of. Mrs Farrier didn’t hold with foreigners.
Give her a good Englishman any day.

In her
long career, Mrs Farrier had unfortunately inevitably had experience of the
destruction of young ladies’ reputations. But she had no wish for Sedgwick
Court to be tarred with those kind of goings on, thank you very much. And it
wasn’t just the interests of the family she was considering. That sort of thing
brought shame on the whole house; the servants would suffer and all. No, the
matter had to be contained.

The
housekeeper decided to confide in Mr Manning, the under-butler. It would do no
good to have a word with Mr Torridge; the shock might do for him. When she did
speak to the butler, it was a relief to receive reassurance from him that no
reports had reached his ears that any of the gentlemen’s rooms were inhabited
by anyone other than their expected occupants. Notwithstanding this, she felt
compelled to put the case before her mistress.

‘Good
heavens, Mrs Farrier, whatever are you doing here?’ Lavinia, propped up in bed
as she was against her many pillows, sipping her tea, was most taken aback and
somewhat perturbed by her housekeeper’s unexpected appearance in her room at
such an hour. ‘I was expecting Denning, not you. Is anything the matter?’

Lavinia,
when told of her guest’s disappearance, did not appear unduly shocked. In
truth, she was far more interested in speculating as to the identity of the
gentleman who might be harbouring the wayward girl. Although she did not
altogether trust him, she hoped that it did not prove to be the count. The
devil inside her took a malicious delight in supposing that it might be Dr
Harrison. That would certainly give Vera something real to moan about and tear
her hair out over. Still, she had a duty to protect Emmeline’s character, or at
least thought she did, given that Emmeline was her guest. But lurking at the
back of her mind was also the worry that the girl had disappeared or got into
difficulties. What should one do for the best? She had half a mind to summon
Jemima and put the matter to her. But what if Emmeline should turn up in a few
moments. She would hardly welcome her companion’s interference, and Jemima was
just the sort of girl to consider it her duty to inform Mr Montacute of his
daughter’s nocturnal activities. There was only one thing to do, she decided,
and she did it. She summoned Rose to her presence.

‘Disappeared!’
Rose took the matter far more seriously than her hostess. Even Lavinia noticed
that Rose’s face had lost some of its colour. ‘Lavinia, we must organise a
search party immediately. She may be hurt or in some sort of danger.’

‘Pah!’
Lavinia made a face, although Rose’s reaction to the news had alarmed her.
‘We’ll do nothing of the sort. You’ve seen the way that she’s been behaving.
It’s far more likely that she’s in one of the men’s rooms. She’s probably hiding
in Theo’s wardrobe as we speak! No, the important thing is to try and protect
the silly girl’s reputation, although she really doesn’t deserve it. I can’t
tell you how much I regret inviting her to stay.’

Mrs
Farrier was hastily summoned and it was agreed between them that nothing would
be done, and no mention would be made of the girl’s disappearance, until after
breakfast. While everyone was at breakfast, the bedrooms would be hurriedly
searched by some of the most trusted servants, as would the other rooms in the
house such as the drawing room and the library lest the girl had curled up in a
chair there and fallen asleep over a book or magazine.

All the
men, Rose noticed, came down to breakfast. Theo was the last to come down and
none of them, she thought, looked as if they were trying to conceal a guilty
secret. Although Theo very obviously was doing his best to avoid catching
Vera’s eye. She in turn picked at her toast and ate nothing, making no attempt
to help herself to any of the bacon or sausages under the silver salvers. Vera
was clearly still miserable. Whatever one said about Vera being rather pathetic
in the way she clung to Theo like a limpet, hardly letting him come up for air,
one couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Theo Harrison, Rose thought, had
behaved abominably.

Emmeline
did not appear at breakfast, although both Rose and Lavinia kept looking
expectantly at the door praying that she would. Rose found herself on
tenterhooks. Try as she might, she could not share Lavinia’s optimistic view
that the girl was engaged only in some sort of indiscretion. Increasingly she
felt that something was very wrong. The feeling bubbled up inside her and she
longed to tell Cedric who, oblivious to there being anything wrong, was happily
tucking into a plate of eggs and kidneys. Only Jemima made any reference to Emmeline’s
absence from the breakfast table, to which Lavinia answered hurriedly that she
believed she had a headache and was breakfasting in her room. A general
muttering of commiseration and the wish that she would feel better soon went
around the table. Other than that, no one appeared particularly perturbed or
concerned. Indeed, Rose thought she had even detected the faint shadow of a
smile appear on Vera’s face, which had been hastily suppressed.         

It was
not until after breakfast, when Lavinia and Rose sought out Mrs Farrier, that
it became apparent that any hopes either might have had that the girl’s
disappearance would resolve itself without their interference were dashed. All
the rooms had been thoroughly searched by the servants and no sign of Emmeline
had been found. And she had not taken the opportunity to crawl out from some
wardrobe and return to her room while the others were breakfasting. Her room
remained empty and abandoned, her bed unmade.