03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (21 page)

‘Well,’
said Cedric, from his position seated beside Rose on a small wooden bench, her
arm tucked comfortably through his. ‘That didn’t seem to go very well, did it?’

He was
referring to the encounter between Jemima and Felix, which they had witnessed
from a distance.

‘No, I
thought they seemed very wary of each other, didn’t you? They weren’t at all
like that the other day.’

‘I say,
do you think they suspect each other of murdering Emmeline?’

‘I don’t
know. Jemima certainly looked a little afraid of Felix, don’t you think?’

‘I do,’
said Cedric. ‘I can’t quite make Jemima out, can you? She seems to keep
everything bottled up inside herself while keeping us at bay. I wanted to
commiserate with her on Emmeline’s death, but she gave me such a reproachful look
that I didn’t dare go near her.’

‘I think
she’s frightened, but what of, I couldn’t say,’ said Rose.

She
looked back across the lawns at the grand Georgian mansion that had been the
Sedgwicks’ ancestral home since she did not quite know when, and then out
across the parkland to the very edges of the estate. Her gaze took in the
sunken ha-ha fences, the lakes and the eye-catchers, all of which Cedric had
shown to her so proudly when she had first arrived at Sedgwick, blissfully
unaware of what lay ahead. She remembered that she had caught her breath at the
scale of it all, the sprawling estate that had been Cedric’s childhood home.

She
thought of the small terraced house that she shared with her mother, and which
they found so difficult to maintain without the assistance of paying guests. Her
eyes misted with unshed tears and blinking them away she allowed her gaze to
stray reluctantly in the direction of the maze. Was it her imagination, or did
the hedges appear darker and more dense? It was as if the maze had become some
forbidden corner, closed off from the rest of the estate.

‘It’s no
good, you know, Cedric,’ Rose said, leaning her head against his shoulder. ‘This
talk of running away won’t do. We can’t pretend that things will resolve
themselves, no matter how much we may want it.’

‘I know.
I was only saying out loud what I wished could happen.’ Cedric got slowly to
his feet and pulled Rose up with him into a long embrace. ‘Of course you’re
right, my darling. I suppose I had better step back into the role of the Earl
of Belvedere, adopt my official façade and go back inside now and face the inspector.
I’ll sit there meekly and have my knuckles rapped, and be told that I am a
disgrace to my country and my class.’

‘Does he
know that you tampered with the evidence?’

‘Yes,
Felix was good enough to give me the nod about it before he was frogmarched
upstairs. He managed to give the constable the slip for a few moments and
dashed into the drawing room to tell me.’

‘That was
good of him.’

‘Yes, wasn’t
it? Jolly decent of him. He said that the inspector already seemed to know all
about it, and put it to him more as a given fact than as a question. He said it
threw him completely off his stride, and that before he knew what he was doing
he was telling the inspector all about it.’ 

‘Poor
Felix.’

‘I say,
I’ve just remembered something. I meant to tell you earlier but didn’t get the
opportunity to do so. I was feeling rather guilty asking you to investigate
Emmeline’s murder. I thought I ought to play my part and undertake a little
investigating of my own.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. I
was thinking about when Emmeline and I went horse riding yesterday. The girl
was absolutely petrified and yet Lavinia claimed she was an accomplished
horsewoman. The two things didn’t seem to tally. When I took Lavinia to task
about it later, she swore blind that she had read in some rag or other about
how well Emmeline rode to hounds.’

‘It was
Lavinia’s idea that Emmeline should go out riding with you, not Emmeline’s.
Although I suppose that doesn’t really prove anything, does it?’

‘Ah, but
that’s not all. I told you that I did a bit of sleuthing of my own.’ Cedric gave
a schoolboy grin. It lit up his face and made him look very young. ‘Inspector
Bramwell had me going backwards and forwards between the maze and the house a few
times today answering questions and pointing things out to the policemen. He
was adamant that I should do it and not a servant. Perhaps he regarded it as my
penance for meddling with the evidence.’

‘So what
did you do?’ asked Rose intrigued.

‘I took
the opportunity to go across to the stables and have a word with Cryer. He’s
our head groom. There’s very little that Cryer doesn’t know about horses and
riders, and what there is, isn’t worth knowing. The man absolutely devours
every edition of
Horse & Hound
that I pass on to him.’

‘So did
you ask him if he had read anything about Emmeline riding to hounds?’

‘I did.
And do you know what he said?’

‘No, but
I’m certain you’re going to tell me.’

‘He said
that he’d read somewhere that she was awfully good at keeping up with the pack
and thought nothing of jumping hedges that others went miles out of their way
to avoid.’

‘Why,
that doesn’t make any sense,’ cried Rose. ‘If Emmeline was so at home riding to
hounds, why should she be daunted at going out on a hack with you?’

‘I can’t
begin to imagine,’ said Cedric. ‘I say, I hope she hadn’t suddenly taken
against me.’

‘I’m sure
she hadn’t. Now … given what we now know of her exploits on horseback, there
was no earthly reason for her being afraid of going for a ride around the
estate. Unless of course she had a nasty fall that had suddenly put her off
riding for life. But … no, that won’t do. Cryer would have read about it.
Unless ... and it really seems the only explanation … oh, but it seems too
fanciful.’

‘Unless
what?’ prompted Cedric.

‘Unless
Emmeline Montacute wasn’t Emmeline Montacute at all.’  

‘And
you think that, why, Miss Simpson?’

Inspector
Bramwell was looking at her as if she had gone quite mad. Even Sergeant Lane
was looking a little embarrassed on her behalf as if she had said something rather
ridiculous. On reflection perhaps she had. Rose sighed. She was beginning to
wish that she had kept quiet about her suspicions, certainly until she had got
the measure of the man sitting before her, his eyebrows raised and with an
expression of incredulity on his face. Even Cedric, who had absolute faith in
her detective abilities and had provided her with the evidence to support her suspicions,
had thought her theory that the woman purporting to be Emmeline Montacute had
been an impostor rather far-fetched. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she
realised she was beginning to have second thoughts herself.

‘I’ve
already told you, Inspector. The woman who was murdered had very little
experience of riding a horse. Emmeline Montacute was an accomplished rider.’

‘According
to some article in a magazine? Well, where is this article, Miss Simpson? And
even if it does exist, what does it prove?’ Inspector Bramwell tapped the desk with
his fingers as if the answer would be found there. ‘I’ll tell you what it
proves. That the writer confused one rich young woman with another. It happens
all the time I should imagine. No, Miss Simpson. You’ll have to do much better
than that to convince me that the murdered woman was not Emmeline Montacute.’

Rose
opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. If nothing else, she was
at a loss as to what to say. To make matters worse, she was conscious of the inspector
looking at her through watery eyes which looked surprisingly alert. She blushed
and to her annoyance saw a look of satisfaction appear on the inspector’s face.
He almost chuckled and proceeded to regard her with a paternal smile. He leaned
back into his chair and she heard the springs strain under his weight. Her mind
conjured up the not too unpleasing image of him falling through the seat of the
chair on to the floor.   

‘Now
then,’ began Inspector Bramwell, his voice softening.                                           

Rose
immediately felt guilty for her uncharitable thoughts, and tried not to think
of the sagging chair.

‘This
just goes to show you, Miss Simpson, why it’s always best to leave things to
the police to investigate. It’s our job after all. It’s what we’re paid to do,
and trained for.’

‘But – ’

I’m not
saying you didn’t mean well, miss, but it really won’t do. We can’t have
members of the public putting their noses into things that don’t concern them
and muddying the waters with absurd suppositions. For one thing, it’s not safe.
There is a murderer among you, Miss Simpson, who I doubt very much will take too
kindly to you stirring things up by asking awkward questions. You need to leave
that for us to do.’

‘Will you
at least find out whether Emmeline Montacute is at her home in the Highlands?’ 

‘We’ve
already done that, miss,’ Sergeant Lane said. ‘Miss Montacute and Miss Wentmore
aren’t there. By all accounts they just upped and left without a word. The
servants were most put out.’

‘Thank
you, Sergeant,’ said Inspector Bramwell, giving his subordinate a reproving
stare. ‘Now, Miss Simpson. You mustn’t take it into your head that we don’t
investigate matters thoroughly, because we do. And as to your concerns regarding
whether Miss Montacute was Miss Montacute … well, you can put them to rest. Mr
Montacute is returning from his travels and should be with us in a day or two.
He’ll officially identify the body, of course, and I think you’ll agree that
he’ll know as well as anyone whether the body’s that of his daughter or not.’

‘Yes. Of
course you are right. But perhaps you could arrange for him to see Miss
Wentmore first,’ suggested Rose. ‘You see, if the body’s not that of Miss
Montacute, it stands to reason that the woman calling herself Jemima Wentmore
is not Jemima Wentmore. You do see that, don’t you, Inspector?’

‘I do. We
will of course be doing just that, Miss Simpson. Mr Montacute will want to have
a few quiet words with his daughter’s companion, I have no doubt, and we’ll ensure
that he does. So you see, everything’s in hand. You needn’t worry. We’ll know the
lay of the land as soon as Mr Montacute lays eyes on Miss Wentmore so to speak.’

‘So you
do think I could be right?’

‘I’m not
saying that, Miss Simpson. I’m not saying that at all.’ The inspector frowned
and looked at his notes. ‘Well now, I think we’ve wasted enough time on this,
don’t you? May I remind you, Miss Simpson, that it is for us to put questions
to you and not the other way around?’

‘Yes, of
course, Inspector. There are just one or two other things that make me think
that the deceased is not –’

‘Miss
Simpson!’

‘I’m sorry,
Inspector. I won’t say anything more about it,’ Rose said hurriedly. ‘Please do
go on with your questions. What would you like to ask me?’

‘Thank
you. Did Lord Belvedere interfere with the evidence?’

‘Oh!’
Rose was taken aback by the abruptness of the question. ‘Well … yes … I suppose
he did. But I know for an absolute fact that he means to tell you all about it
himself. He’s very ashamed about it. He knows that what he did was very wrong.
He would have told you about it himself already if you’d only given him an
opportunity to do so.’

‘Is that
so? Well, perhaps while you’re here, you’ll tell me about it, Miss Simpson.’

‘Of
course. Now, let me see … yes, Lord Belvedere took the candlestick from
Lavinia, wiped it and then asked me to see to his sister and take her up to the
house.’

‘And you
didn’t think to protest?’

‘Of
course I did, Inspector. I tried to, and so did Felix Thistlewaite. But it was
no good. Lord Belvedere was not in a mood to be reasoned with.’

‘Why was
that?’

‘I
imagine it was because he was under the impression that his sister had just
murdered Miss Montacute.’

‘And is
that what you all thought?’

‘Yes, I
suppose we did all think that at the time. Lavinia was standing over Emmeline’s
body holding a candlestick smeared with blood. It was difficult to think
anything else.’

‘I see.’

‘But of
course we know now that didn’t happen. Emmeline was killed much earlier and
really Lavinia had no reason to wish her dead. And … well … the candlestick, Inspector.
I know it was very wrong of Lord Belvedere to tamper with the candlestick and
he feels absolutely awful about it now. But, really I don’t think much real
harm has been done, do you?’

‘What
makes you say that, Miss Simpson?’

‘Well, it
would have been awfully cold when Emmeline was killed. It was still jolly
chilly when we set out to search for her. We were all wrapped up in coats and
scarves. Don’t you think, Inspector, it is far more likely than not that the
murderer was wearing gloves when they struck Miss Montacute with the
candlestick? And if that was so, they wouldn’t have left any fingerprints, even
if Lord Belvedere hadn’t wiped them off.’

‘Possibly,’
conceded the inspector. ‘Tell me, was Lady Lavinia wearing gloves when you
found her clutching the candlestick?’

‘Well …
no, of course not, otherwise Lord Belvedere wouldn’t have gone to the bother of
wiping the candlestick, would he?’

‘Ah! Then
perhaps your theory is not quite as robust as you seem to think it, Miss
Simpson. The murderer may well have been wearing gloves as you suppose. But I think
it very likely they would have taken them off before they swung the candlestick
in order to give them a better grip on the instrument. Just as Lady Lavinia removed
her gloves to pick up the candlestick.’

‘Oh.’

Rose
wished she had kept quiet. For it occurred to her that by saying what she had
done, she had only made matters worse. 

‘I
understand the lady’s maid came out of the house to see to her mistress?’

‘Yes … I
suppose I ought to tell you that she ran a bath for Lavinia, and … took the
clothes she was wearing to be washed.’

‘And you
didn’t think to stop her?’

‘Yes …
no, I ... Lavinia was in quite a state, as you can imagine. I thought a hot
bath was just what she required. I was worried about her, Inspector. If you had
seen her, you would have been too.’ Rose put a hand to her forehead. ‘I did try
and stop the clothes being washed, of course I did, but everything happened so
quickly, and then it was all too late and … I know I should not have let them
out of my sight. But it was not as if they were covered in blood, far from it.
There were only a few traces of blood on Lady Lavinia’s coat from what I could
see, smears from her hands or the candlestick, I imagine  ...’

Rose
faltered, discouraged from continuing by the look on the inspector’s face.

There then
followed an awkward silence. Rose glanced at the inspector and saw that he was
regarding her closely. After a few moments he cleared his throat and Rose,
taking a deep breath, readied herself to be severely admonished for her various
shortcomings.

‘Do you
recognise these diamonds, Miss Simpson?’ The inspector produced a diamond
necklace from his pocket.    

‘Oh! Do I
recognise …? Let me see.’

Rose bent
forward eagerly in her seat and took the necklace from him, holding it up so
that she could study it closely. ‘Why … yes, I think it’s Emmeline’s necklace,
the one she was wearing the night before last.’

‘Are you
sure about that, Miss Simpson?’

‘No … I’ve
just said I’m not … but, yes … I think it is her necklace. You see, we all took
it in turns to look at it through Count Fernand’s jeweller’s lens. I don’t know
much about diamonds, I’m afraid, but it looks to me to be the same necklace that
Emmeline was wearing.’

‘Thank
you.’ The inspector took the jewellery from her and stowed it back into his
pocket. ‘Now, Miss Simpson. I’d like you to cast your mind back, if you will,
to the two days leading up to the murder. Just so you know, we’re aware of Dr
Harrison and Miss Montacute being rather fond of each other and Miss Brewster
being made miserable by it.’

‘Are you?
I’m glad … at least I think I am. It doesn’t feel so much like speaking out of
turn if you already know all about it. Vera was rather beastly to Emmeline the
night before last because of it. She referred to her kidnapping and how it must
have frightened her terribly. Both Emmeline and Jemima were awfully upset by it.
That’s why the count suggested that we look at the diamonds through his loupe.
I think he thought it would take everyone’s mind off what had happened.’

‘And did it?’

‘Oh, yes.
Emmeline cheered up no end.’

‘What
about Miss Wentmore?’

‘Jemima?
No … now you come to mention it, Inspector, Miss Wentmore remained subdued. She
kept herself apart from everyone. To tell the truth, I don’t think she thought
much of the count’s game.’

‘What
surprises me most in all this, Miss Simpson, is that Miss Brewster did not try
to put a stop to the relationship developing between her fiancé and Miss
Montacute. Mr Thistlewaite informed us that he believed that Miss Brewster
thought it was a mere flirtation or infatuation that would just blow over in
time. Tell me, were you of that opinion also?’

‘No. At
first I don’t think Miss Brewster saw it as any more than Dr Harrison trying to
curry favour with someone who might be in a positon to further his career. Vera
told me she thought he worked too hard. He had aspirations of becoming a
fashionable doctor rather than a country one. She was concerned that when they
were married he would want a London practice. She herself wanted to stay in the
village of Sedgwick.’

‘And
later?’

‘I think
she realised that Emmeline and Theo were attracted to each other but tried to
ignore it. But it made her miserable.  It was only when …’

‘Yes,
Miss Simpson. Go on. What were you going to say?’

‘I am
certain that it had nothing to do with Miss Montacute’s death.’

‘I’ll be
the judge of that. Go on.’

‘Well, on
the morning before Emmeline’s death, I decided to go for a walk in the gardens.
Miss Brewster asked if she might accompany me. She then asked Dr Harrison if he
would care to join us, and he declined saying he had too much work to do. He
wasn’t very polite about it, I’m afraid. I remember feeling rather sorry for
Vera at the time.’

‘I take
it there’s more to come?’

‘Oh, yes,
I’m just giving you the background, Inspector. We decided to walk on down to
the lake. And that’s when we came upon them, Dr Harrison and Miss Montacute.
They were laughing and giggling and chasing one another. They were so obviously
in love. I felt so sorry for Vera. Even now I can see her face, her look of
disbelief. She was trembling, I remember that. It was quite awful.’

‘What
happened next, Miss Simpson?’

 ‘She ran
back to the house and kept to her room until it was time for dinner.’