03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (6 page)

It was
only as they made their return journey to the house in the dark that another
thought occurred to Rose. It hit her so forcibly, and so suddenly, that she actually
stopped in her tracks causing Vera to walk into her and Felix to give her a
concerned look and ask if anything was the matter. In truth she was not sure
how to answer him. For only now had something struck her, something that seemed
to make no sense at all given their respective stations in life. But, as she
recalled those huddled figures, it was as if she were seeing them in a new,
much clearer light. What was it that Emmeline was seeking so desperately from
Jemima? Did she have a constant need for reassurance or was it a desire for
something else? Was she not after all looking to Jemima for something more, approval
even? And if she was, then surely that could only mean one thing. The heiress
was afraid of her companion.

Rose
mulled over the curious relationship between Emmeline and Jemima while she was
dressing for dinner that evening. As a consequence, without thinking, she dressed
with the same haste that she employed when getting ready for a day in Madame
Renard’s dress shop when she had little, if any, time to spare. Still engrossed
in her thoughts, she neglected to consult her wristwatch before descending the
staircase and, much to her dismay, found that she was the first down. She
admonished herself for having been so preoccupied with thinking about the
heiress and her companion to the exclusion of all else, for she did not relish the
prospect of having to wait for her fellow diners to join her in the drawing
room for cocktails. There was Vera’s magazine to read of course while she
waited, but otherwise little to do but stand around rather self-consciously,
and awkwardly, alone.

She had
just made up her mind to return to her room when the door of the drawing room
opened, thus preventing her escape. Before she could speculate as to the
identity of the newcomer, Count Fernand walked into the room, dressed in his
usual flamboyant finery, which did not look so very out of place in the evening.
If he was disappointed to find that she was the only one down, rather than the
much favoured Lavinia or Emmeline, he did not show it. Rose wondered, after a
moment of awkwardness on both their parts, whether he wasn’t after all a little
pleased to have an opportunity to speak to her alone.   

‘Ah, Miss
Simpson.’ He came towards her and gave a low bow. ‘We are the first down, are
we not? What does this signify, do you think? Are the others a little slow or
are you and I a little too eager to partake of our cocktails?’ He gave her a
disarming smile.

For the
first time Rose saw his appeal. There was something so charming and affable about
his manner that she found herself laughing with him. She had had few occasions
to converse with him since his arrival, his attentions having usually been
directed towards Lavinia and Emmeline. Receiving his undivided attention as she
now was, and thus experiencing the full force of his personality, she began to
understand why Lavinia had invited him to stay at Sedgwick. The man certainly
had a knack of making himself agreeable. There was something appealing too
about his quaint way of speaking, coupled with his voice with its foreign
accent. The effect of which was to make his words sound more fascinating than
perhaps they really were.

‘This is
a very beautiful estate that the young earl has, is it not? Lakes and parkland
as far as the eye can see and all beautifully tended. England is certainly a
green and pleasant land, is it not, for the likes of the Earl of Belvedere? And
Lavinia is indeed fortunate to live here. To have a brother who is so
attentive, she is most lucky, is she not?’ He looked at her keenly and smiled,
the whiteness of his teeth contrasting attractively with his suntanned skin. ‘You
are an old friend of Lavinia’s and our Lord Cedric’s. You know them well?’ He
learned forward unexpectedly and Rose instinctively took a step back. There was
still the same charming smile upon his face, but something had changed. All at
once he seemed to her a little less affable, more prying even. Perhaps he was
aware of the direction of her thoughts, or conscious that at any moment they
might be joined by the others, for his next words were said abruptly, with a
degree of urgency about them.

‘They are
close are they not, Lavinia and her brother? They care about what each other
thinks? They do not like to do anything of which the other might disapprove? Tell
me, am I right?’       

‘Yes,
indeed,’ Rose said quickly. ‘I think it unlikely that Lavinia would behave
rashly, if that is what you are asking me. Certainly not in respect of anything
that would change her situation irretrievably.’

His
abruptness had demanded a candid answer, and so she had responded in such a
fashion. Yet she was still quite unprepared for the look of fury that had appeared
momentarily on the count’s face before he had recovered his equanimity. Worse,
she had actually believed for one second that he meant to strike her. For one ghastly
moment the handsome face had become distorted and ugly. The transformation was
fleeting, but the damage was done. For the awful image stayed with Rose long
after, so that it still appeared clear in her mind’s eye when she retired for
bed that night and rose up before her as she tossed and turned in her bed
clothes. The mask had slipped and she had caught a glimpse of the man beneath
the gorgeous façade.

That Count
Fernand was dangerous she now had little doubt. And he had manipulated her, deliberately
lulled her into a false sense of security with his charming manner before
putting his impertinent question to her.

Rose made
her excuses and left the drawing room as quickly as she could. The thought of
attempting to exchange polite conversation with the count while waiting on the
others to arrive was now unbearable, given that she saw him in a different,
more sinister, light. Undoubtedly he would think her rude rushing off, but better
that than to stay and fear angering him further. The question now was where to
go. The obvious course of action was to retreat to her room and wait until she
was sure at least one or two of the others had gone down, before retracing her
steps to the drawing room. But she was not in the mood for solitude. Besides,
she felt the need to warn Lavinia about the count or, at the least, to
ascertain how deep her feelings were for the man.

‘Oh, it’s
you, Rose,’ Lavinia said, catching sight of her out of the corner of her eye,
while gazing as ever at her own reflection in her dressing table mirror. ‘I
didn’t think it could be Eliza. No doubt she’s still arranging Emmeline’s hair.
I do wish Emmie had brought her own lady’s maid with her. Eliza’s not going to
have time to do
my
hair. Well, I suppose I’ll manage. I don’t suppose
you could …?’ She caught the look on Rose’s face and thought better of it. ‘No,
don’t worry. I’m sure I can manage …’

‘Lavinia,
how well do you know Count Fernand?’

‘Well,
hardly at all,’ replied Lavinia, twisting a piece of her hair one way and then
the other to see how it looked. ‘Why do you ask? Don’t you think him handsome?
He is quite the most charming man I have ever met. His manners! He really is –
’

‘Are you
very fond of him, Lavinia?’ Rose interrupted, asking her question anxiously.
She came into the room and hovered by the bed, clutching her hands.

‘Well, of
course not,’ retorted Lavinia. ‘But his company is delightful, and he’s so
attentive, just as if he finds everything I have to say of the utmost interest,
fancy that! And he tells the most wonderful stories. That scar on his face, the
one that makes him look so jolly good looking, why he told me all about how he
came by it. It was just as one would imagine, a duel fought over a woman’s
honour.’

‘Lavinia
– ’

‘Oh, I
don’t believe a word of it, of course. He probably just slipped on some ice, or
something frightfully boring like that. No, what I am trying to say is that his
stories are awfully amusing. I could simply sit and listen to him for hours. I
think it’s that foreign accent, don’t you? It makes everything he says sound so
frightfully more interesting than it really is, don’t you think?’

‘Thank
goodness,’ Rose said, perching on the end of her friend’s bed and visibly
relaxing. ‘I was afraid that you might think him a man to break one’s heart
over.’

‘Not I,’
replied Lavinia, cheerfully. ‘As it happens, I wasn’t quite sure which one of
us he liked best. He seemed awfully keen on Emmeline when we were on the
Continent. But why are you so interested in what I think of him?’ She turned
and looked at Rose suspiciously. ‘You’re not in love with him yourself, are
you?’

Rose
could not help but detect a hopeful note in her friend’s voice.

‘No, of
course not. If you must know, I don’t like him very much.’

‘Oh, is
that all.’ Lavinia sounded bored and returned her attention to gazing at her
reflection. ‘Well, he’s my guest, not yours, and I find him interesting which
is all that matters. Now, if that’s all – ’

‘I’m
sorry,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I wanted to ask you something else. No, not about
the count,’ she added quickly, as Lavinia looked about to protest. ‘It’s about
Emmeline and Jemima. It’s the strangest thing, but I cannot get the impression out
of my mind that Emmeline’s a little scared of Jemima? I can’t think why that
should be, can you? I mean, Jemima’s her companion.’

‘Well of
course Emmeline’s afraid of Jemima,’ Lavinia said dismissively. ‘And with good
cause I can tell you. She reports everything back to Emmeline’s father. The
poor girl told me that she can’t sneeze without Mr Montacute being told about
it. One can’t really blame him, of course. He’s just over protective of his
daughter, has been ever since the kidnapping attempt.’

‘Kidnapping
attempt, what kidnapping attempt?’

‘Oh,
Rose, you must have heard about it. It was in all the newspapers at the time.
They were full of nothing else, what with Emmeline being sole heir to the
Montacute fortune, and only being a girl of fourteen or fifteen at the time.
They were very lucky that the kidnap didn’t succeed. You must remember all the rumour
and gossip surrounding it. There were reports at the time that all sorts of prominent
people had been involved in the plot; you know, bankers, policemen and politicians,
although I don’t think anything was ever proved.’

‘Really?’

‘Emmeline
told me her father became quite ill with the worry of it all. He didn’t know
who he could trust. So he bought some stately mansion in the remote Highlands
of Scotland and Emmeline has been living there with him like a recluse ever
since. Well,’ Lavinia admitted, ‘not quite a recluse, because her father has
held the most spectacular balls and parties for her there, but he is always
very careful who he invites and the place is heavily fortified with an army of
servants who man all the doors and windows and patrol the grounds. Emmeline says
that it’s quite like living in a palatial prison.’

‘How
awful. Tell me, how long has Jemima been companion to Emmeline?’ Rose asked
intrigued. ‘Presumably she’s living under the same conditions?’

‘Only
about a year or two, I think,’ replied Lavinia. ‘I think Mr Montacute was
afraid his daughter would become bored with her own company when he had to
leave Scotland from time to time on business. So he invited Jemima to come and
stay and of course she’s frightfully grateful to him. Her family are in rather
a poor way.’ 

‘And yet
he … Mr Montacute that is, is quite happy for his daughter to go on the
Continent and stay here at Sedgwick? I have to say, Lavinia,’ said Rose, ‘I’ve
seen no sign of Mr Montacute’s servants manning the doors and windows here or
patrolling the grounds. I daresay they do it all very discreetly and with the
minimum of fuss, but even so …’

‘Ah, well,
about that,’ said Lavinia, going very pink and suddenly finding the pattern on
the wallpaper surprisingly absorbing, so much so that she was not obliged to
look her friend in the eye. ‘As it happens Mr Montacute doesn’t know she’s here.’

Before
Rose could respond in any way to this startling revelation, there was a tap on
the door and Vera entered the room, looking somewhat surprised to find Rose
already ensconced there.

‘Lavinia …
Oh, I say, I hope I’m not intruding? I just wondered if I could borrow – ’

‘A
dress?’ enquired Lavinia rather unkindly. ‘Surely Vera you’re not going to wear
that old black frock again? Haven’t you rather done it to death already?’

‘Lavinia!’
exclaimed Rose, shocked.

‘Oh,
don’t worry, Rose’ said Vera, carelessly. ‘You don’t need to protest on my
account. I’m quite used to Lavinia’s ways. She doesn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Actually,
this time I do. Wouldn’t you rather like to borrow one of my dresses, Vera?
Eliza could do something with your hair and I could make you up. Oh, do say
yes, it would be such great fun, wouldn’t it? Rose?’

Rose
nodded, not knowing quite what to say or what she thought of the proposal. It
seemed to her that it would take more than a well-groomed Vera to tear Theo’s
eyes away from Emmeline. Perhaps though it was worth a try.

As it
happened, Vera was having none of it.

‘I’m not
some mannequin or doll for you to dress up, thank you very much,’ Vera said
rather crossly. ‘Clothes and make up really are not my thing at all, as you
well know, Lavinia. Besides, Theo likes me just the way I am.’

‘Are you
sure about that?’ Lavinia said rather coldly.

‘What exactly
do you mean by that?’ cried Vera defensively, a wild gleam appearing in her eye.

‘Only
that Theo seems to be enjoying the company of Emmeline Montacute rather too
much for my liking …’

Lavinia
let the sentence drift off into silence, which for a few moments no one in the
room seemed inclined to break. Rose looked desperately first at Lavinia and
then at Vera, wondering what to do for the best. Privately she thought Lavinia
had gone too far. Vera’s face had become quite ashen and she was clenching and
unclenching her hands in an agitated manner. Finally, when the silence became
almost too much to bear, Vera sank herself onto the bed beside Rose and said
resignedly: