Murder At Rudhall Manor (4 page)

 She felt pity, but not grief. As for the family's
behaviour towards herself, she was not surprised by the vitriol. Lady Sedley
had wanted her out of the house the very next day after her arrival, but Lord
Sedley and Ian had insisted that she stay on. Lord Sedley had said that she was
a sight for sore eyes and Ian had reasoned that they wouldn't be able to afford
anyone else to teach the children.

The butler entered the room distracting her from her gloomy
thoughts.

Hodgson, the butler, was an old man who had been with the
family the longest of all the servants. He was a kindly old thing who liked his
drink and a bit of gossip. His puffy almost maroon face was expressive and his
eyes were small and wrinkled at the corners. He dawdled now in the room
straightening things which did not need to be straightened in hopes of inducing
Lucy to chat.

Lucy was only too willing to oblige him. Too many questions
were bubbling inside her, and Hodgson was an excellent source of information.

"Lord Adair is a remarkable man, isn't he?" Lucy
asked.

"Beloved of the king and the regent," Hodgson
beamed.

"Beloved of the mistresses, too, or so I hear,"
Lucy nodded.

"A rare and dangerous thing that," Hodgson said
picking invisible lint off the cushion.

"Is it true that he can kill anyone and not be
hanged?"

Hodgson smiled indulgently. "Not anyone, miss, only
those who are a threat to the regent's safety."

"A threat to the regent," Lucy mused. "Well,
he might as well kill anyone he likes, or rather dislikes, and then proclaim
him a danger to the king or the regent. Who is to question him? The poor victim
is hardly likely to rise from the grave to give his defence."

"He is a good man, miss," the butler soothed.
"He was the finest spy during the war. Helped defeat the French. If hadn't
been for him—"

"We would have still won," Lucy finished.

Hodgson pressed his lips together and remained silent. He
had moved on to wiping the dust free lamp.

Lucy plucked a sandwich off the tray and nibbled the corner.

"He may not find the murderer," Hodgson comforted.

"You were listening at the door?"

"Naturally I took your place as soon as you vacated
it."

Lucy nodded. “As you should have."

"It is my duty to know all the goings-on." He
turned back to look at her from the door. "Miss, I shouldn’t be saying
this, but you did a good thing by killing that fermented old man."

"I didn’t kill him," Lucy protested.

The butler winked at her. "Sure you didn't, Miss
Trotter, sure you didn’t."

Lucy perceptibly brightened as she looked down the long
wooden table. She eyed the innumerable sweet and savoury dishes dotting the
polished surface and dug her nails into her palm in order to prevent herself
from catapulting onto the table and sinking her teeth into a warm pigeon pie.

She had grown up eating simple dishes in the orphanage, and
ever since her arrival at Rudhall, the dinner tray sent up by the cook had been
interesting but recognisable.

But here everything appeared to be exotic and colourful.

Near her own plate sat a bowl of something akin to eggs,
except it had creamy yellow flesh with funny little brown spots all over. She
gingerly sniffed a white lump which turned out be to be boiled fish and
discreetly pushed away a strange soupy dish with blobs of green floating on
top.

Finally, her eyes alighted on the only other dish placed
close at hand. She wrinkled her nose in confusion and stuck her tongue between
the gap in her front teeth. It looked like some sort of meat. Was it lamb
drenched in gravy, she wondered?

"Sheep's brains in matelot sauce," Hodgson
whispered, nodding towards the dish.

Lucy slowly put down the fork and leaned as far away from
the table as possible.

Lady Sedley, Elizabeth, Peter and Lord Adair she noticed
were sitting at the other end of the table. They were surrounded by piles of
lush fruits, breads, delectable looking pies, pretty jellies, chicken, cold ham
and cheeses.

She scowled in annoyance. It seemed the arrangement had been
deliberate. She was surrounded by strange and tasteless food by design. Her
stomach growled in hunger and her heart bubbled in anger.

"Please ignore my pale complexion, my lord," Lady
Sedley's voice floated towards Lucy. "I fear a touch of quinsy coming
on."

Lucy rolled her eyes. Lady Sedley always felt something
coming on. Last week she had constantly complained of consumption.

The week before that, it had been dropsy, and both the times
the physician had patted her hand and told her that nothing whatsoever was the
matter with her.

All she needed was a good long walk and a drop of brandy.

Spinoza swooped into the room at that moment startling Lucy
into dropping her spoon. He flew in circles over her head flapping his wings.
He appeared to be searching for a good spot to land on.

Lord Adair, unruffled by the bird's arrival, poked a slice
of cheese. He turned to Lady Sedley and said, "It is unnaturally cold this
winter. People with a delicate constitution are bound to suffer. It is
unfortunate."

Lucy bent down to pick up the spoon, her attention only
partly on the conversation. Her fingers touched the spoon while her eyes looked
down the table. Her mouth fell open.

Peter's ankles were primly crossed, but he was wearing two
different styles of boots, both a rich dark brown.

But that was expected. He often did that sort of thing.

What was unexpected was that farther down the table Lady
Sedley's pointed yellow leather shoe, trimmed with green silk and embroidered
in pale pink, had hopped over to stroke Lord Adair's uncomfortable right thigh.

Lucy's eyes crossed and uncrossed themselves, and she slid a
wary glance towards Elizabeth, who was placed opposite Lord Adair.

She found Elizabeth in a very queer position. The woman was
not sitting but half lying on the chair. Her back was uncomfortably arched, her
bottom was perched at the very edge of her seat, and her pointed toe, encased
in a striped blue and cream stocking, had stretched across to make ever so tiny
concentric circles on Lord Adair's worried left knee.

Above the table, Lady Sedley was saying in a perfectly
normal voice, "I think I will write to the physician in the morning. My
husband's death," Here she gave an artful sniff, "and the theft have
left me feeling queer."

Lord Adair's right leg was now attempting to get away from
Lady Sedley's shoe and nudge Elizabeth's big toe away at the same time. He
replied in an equally steady tone, "I once had the pleasure of eating
dinner at a friend's house. The duck had been lovely and tender that day. His
wife told me much the same thing. She said she would call the physician in the
morning, for she was feeling a little odd. She died that night."

"You don't say," Lady Sedley gasped. Her entire
leg moved up his thigh to lie across his lap.

Lucy hiccupped at the sight and banged her head on the
underside of the table. Her cheeks turned pink, and she sat back in her seat.
She had forgotten the spoon on the floor. She hiccupped again and reached for
the wine.

Lord Adair was now pulling out some sort of herb from inside
a pocket in his robe and offering it to Lady Sedley. He was recounting its
various benefits, but Lucy heard none of it. She was grasping the stem of her
glass, her face turning redder and redder until it was almost maroon in
embarrassment.

A loud hic escaped her lips and all eyes swivelled towards
her. Lucy hurriedly took another sip of her wine.

Lord Adair shot her a keen look before continuing where he
had left off. "A brilliant herb, saved the life of a man bitten by a
cobra, or so the man who sold it to me said. I haven't tested it yet. I would
be keen to know all your symptoms once you have consumed it."

"I suppose I am feeling a little better," Lady
Sedley said hastily. "I don't think it is necessary—"

Lucy bit her lip and once again dived under the table on the
pretext of picking up the spoon.

Things had progressed, it seemed. Peter's ankles were
uncrossed, Lady Sedley's second leg had joined the first leg on Lord Adair's
lap, and Elizabeth had abandoned the knee in an attempt to part his robe and
reach his unclad calves.

Meanwhile, Lord Adair had dropped a hand over Lady Sedley's
thighs and down to his legs, where he sat clutching the edges of his robes
close together to keep out Elizabeth's adventurous feet.

With another hiccup, Lucy emerged back up. She smoothed her
scandalised hair and held the cold wine glass to her warm cheeks. It was a good
few moments before she turned her attention back to the conversation above the
table.

"Lord Adair, the gooseberry cheese is wonderful. Do
taste a bit," Elizabeth was saying.

A large basket of fruits blocked Lord Adair's view of
Elizabeth. He bent sideways in an attempt to look at her. "Thank you. I
particularly liked the apple stew."

Lucy nibbled on a piece of dry, stale bread. Elizabeth and
her mother were leaving no stone unturned in their attempt to attract Lord
Adair. No doubt such a lavish fair had been brought out for his sake.

As Lucy expected, Lord Adair and Elizabeth spent some time
trying to have a conversation with each other by straining above the basket or
bending sideways to look at each other.

After another few moments of weaving to and fro on the
chair, Elizabeth burst out, "Oh, this is impossible. I am going to ask
Hodgson to remove this basket—"

 Lord Adair was out of his chair before Elizabeth had
finished her sentence. "Allow me," he said and swept up the basket,
walked down the table and planted it right in front of Lucy's face.

Lucy quivered from top to toe in excitement. If she had a
tail, it would have started wagging madly at this point. She had hoped
something of the sort would occur, tried to will it, in fact, but for it to
actually happen—a whole basket of fruits within her grasp—Her fingers itched
with suppressed emotion and a tear almost formed in one eye.

She had eaten a rare orange, stolen an apple at times, but
here she was presented with so many different fruits that she had only before
seen in watercolours. Her stomach roared, her eyes feasted, and with trembling
fingers she piled her plate with grapes, a peach, an apple and a few small
plums.

She bit into the sweet, crisp flesh of the peach and tried
not to moan aloud.

Once her stomach was somewhat full, she turned her attention
back to the situation under the table.

This time she dropped a knife and ducked underneath.

A pup was lying on Peter's boring boots. She ignored him and
swiftly turned her attention towards the more exciting part of the table.

Somehow, while she had been cooling her blushing cheeks on
top, things had become complicated underneath.

Some mysterious process had confounded the feet of the two
ladies present and instead of sliding up and down Lord Adair's legs, their
adventurous toes were playing blind man's buff with each other.

Lady Sedley's foot was caressing Elizabeth's calf in the
mistaken belief that it was a part of Lord Adair's anatomy, and Elizabeth
happily nudged Lady Sedley back also believing it to be Lord Adair's frisky
toes.

As for Lord Adair, he sat with his legs crossed on top of
the chair, the robe well tucked in with not a thread dangling over the edge of
the seat.

Lucy picked up the spoon and the knife and once again sat up
in her chair.

"… died. How?" Elizabeth was saying.

Lucy listened for a moment trying to get the gist of the
topic.

The conversation had galloped ahead. They were now
discussing Lord Sedley's murder.

She pushed away her plate and leaned forward in her seat.
The goings-on under the table were forgotten as things had just become
interesting on top.

"Odd," Lord Adair was saying.

Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes intense, "The murder
could have been done by my old Aunt Sedley. Believe me, my lord, no one else
could have gone up those stairs without Mother's or Peter's knowledge."

"I see," Lord Adair said, taking a bite of his
food. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "Miss Sedley, I don't think
your aunt could have committed the crime."

"Why not?" Lady Sedley broke in. "She was an
awful old thing. Bitter to the core and could never see anyone happy."

"Was an awful old thing," Lord Adair echoed Lady
Sedley, "and since she was and no longer is, she couldn’t have done
it."

"Her ghost haunts this manor, my lord," Lady
Sedley protested.

"Mother," Elizabeth said lifting her palm,
"Lord Adair is a rational man. After he learns the facts, he will be
forced to admit that only a ghost could have committed the crime."

Lucy brightened — a ghost. Hah! This was brilliant. As long
as she was no longer a suspect, she was willing to believe wholeheartedly in
this ghost story.

Lady Sedley dabbed the corners of her mouth. "Lord
Sedley's bedroom, where he was found, is two stories above the ground. The
jewels were kept in the study hidden away in the priest hole. He always wore
the key to the hole around his neck on a thin gold chain."

"The study and Father's room are next to each
other," Elizabeth continued. "Only one flight of stairs leads to his
room and the study. Not even the servants have hidden access to those
rooms."

Lady Sedley leaned forward in her seat. "Now, at the
base of the stairs that leads to his room is a small wooden gate. It is a
unique thing fashioned for the purpose of keeping Peter's animals out. We were
getting tired of waking up in the mornings to find all sorts of dogs and cats
sitting on our beds staring at us. It makes one feel queer. One morning I was
woken up by a parrot squawking 'morning' in my ear and Lord Sedley found a tuft
of cat hair in his mouth—"

"Mother," Elizabeth tsked impatiently.

"Right … Where was I?"

"The murder," Lucy prompted, now completely
engrossed in the conversation.

"Ah, yes," Lady Sedley continued, "the
murder. Now, we had a small meal at three. I saw him next at half past four
arguing with Miss Trotter in the garden. He stormed off to his room soon after,
and that … that was the last time I set my eyes on him."

Lord Adair turned a direct gaze on Lucy. "What was the
argument about?"

Lucy dropped her lashes and looked away. "He
wanted," She paused to take a sip of the wine, her face scarlet in
embarrassment, "to nibble my toes."

A brief silence later, Lord Adair leaned forward and asked,
"And your reply."

"I said my toes were fat with sharp nails and I would
shove them up his nostrils if he didn't mind his language."

"And pierce his thick skull," Lady Sedley said
with reluctant admiration. "You added that in the end. I heard it
all."

"I see." Lord Adair leaned back in his seat and
stroked his chin thoughtfully. He gestured towards Lady Sedley.
"Continue," he ordered.

Lady Sedley nodded and began where she had left off.
"He had a habit of taking medicine for gout every afternoon. It made him
drowsy and he would sleep undisturbed until the valet woke him at six for
dinner."

"We live in the country, my lord, but we like to keep
London hours," Elizabeth clarified.

"Yes, it is fashionable, isn't it, to eat dinner past
five," Lady Sedley remarked. "It took me some time getting used to
it, but after all one has to follow fashions of the day. I now ensure that we
have our dinner no earlier than seven—"

"Mother, allow me to complete the story," Elizabeth
said impatiently. "Father departed for his afternoon nap, and mother and
Peter retired to the morning room. Now, this is the interesting bit. The door
to the morning room was open, and both mother and Peter could see the wooden
gate at the bottom of the stairs that keep the animals from venturing upstairs.
That gate was closed. It even has a bell attached to it to warn Lord Sedley if
anyone is coming up the stairs."

Lady Sedley's voice trembled. "My lord, the gate did
not open. The bell did not ring. Peter and I heard nothing and saw no one go up
those stairs after my husband."

Lucy felt her flesh creep at this pronouncement.

Elizabeth patted her mother's hand comfortingly. "Until
the valet who found him dead at six in the evening. He immediately rushed down
to alert us."

"You could have overlooked a servant going up the
stairs. One often overlooks their presence," Lord Adair suggested.

Elizabeth cleared her throat," We are going through a
few financial troubles. We don’t have that many servants and they were all
downstairs and accounted for."

"The valet could have killed him," Lucy spoke up,
receiving a glare from both Lady Sedley and Elizabeth.

"The physician said that from the time the valet found
him father had been dead for more than an hour,” Peter suddenly spoke up.

"Which means he was stabbed almost immediately after
lying down for his daily snooze," Lucy concluded.

"It was not a ghost," Lord Adair said firmly.

"How could anyone have killed him? How is it possible
when no one went up the stairs leading to his rooms?" Lady Sedley asked
passionately.

"A ladder outside his window? Anyone could have crept
in and killed him," Lucy bravely offered.

"A bush lies right below his window. The ground is
moist enough to leave footprints. The ground, the bush and the grass below his
window were untouched. And surely someone would have seen the ladder. His room
faces the front of the house and the children were playing in the garden. They
saw nothing," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully, for once speaking to Lucy without
malice.

"Someone could have hidden near the room and waited
until the deed was discovered and then wriggled out," Lucy mused further.

"Are you telling us how you murdered my husband? You
seem adept at finding ways to kill people," Lady Sedley scowled.

Lucy closed her mouth and decided to try to remain invisible
for as long as possible.

"What Lucy suggests is a possibility. In the chaos that
followed after the discovery of the murder, the culprit could have
escaped," Lord Adair said.

"It could be someone from outside? A robber?" Lady
Sedley asked hopefully.

Lord Adair shook his head. "Someone who knew the
workings of the house well. It is someone in this house."

Lady Sedley, Elizabeth, Peter, and even the baboon turned to
look at Lucy.

Lucy paled under the glare of four suspicious sets of eyes.
Surely they hadn't abandoned the idea that a ghost had done it so soon.

She nervously swallowed a piece of orange complete with four
white shiny pips.