The Riddle of Alabaster Royal (9 page)

“From what I've heard of Lord Wellington's army,” riposted the duchess, “you've dined in worse places.”

Reminded of nights of freezing rain and ‘dinners' of roots or berries, he grinned appreciatively.

“Did I not warn you, Grandmama?” said Consuela. “You are so good as to invite him to dinner and he can make only sarcastic remarks. A fine guest!”

Vespa choked on a mouthful of beef. “Guest, is it! You invade my house! Try to kill me! Threaten to throw my corpse into the quarry!”

Without a sign of guilt, Consuela snapped, “Tit for tat.”

Bewildered, he stared at her.

“Now do stop quarrelling, children,” said the duchess. “Your stew will get cold. And besides, Consuela, the gentleman—”

“—Gentleman! Bah! Look at the bruises on my poor arms if you think—”

“The
gentleman
—for all of Lord Wellington's aides-de-camp are gentlemen—is right, you know. And before you rage at me, be casting your mind back. Did I want to move into this horrid old house? No! Did I not warn you it was wrong and impossible,
and
illegal?
Si!
”

“But you came, dearest Grandmama,” said Consuela, suddenly all loving humility. “Because you knew it was also the only way we could uncover the truth.”

After a brief pause during which they all gave their attention to the food, Vespa asked curiously, “What truth?”

Consuela threw him a smouldering look. “As if you didn't know! The truth, my fine gentlemanly Captain, of why you murdered my dearest Papa!”

Vespa dropped his fork.

“I am sorry I was gone so long, ma'am,” said a new voice. “But it's so dark and spidery down in the—” A young woman carrying a wine bottle hurried into the room, gave a shriek as she saw Vespa, and threw up her hands.

He lunged from his chair and caught the bottle in the nick of time. “From my wine cellars, I take it,” he said drily. “Or I should say,
you
take it!”

The new arrival gave every indication of falling into strong hysterics, sobbing that they were all doomed to be transported at the very least.

Female tears terrified Vespa and he was silent as the ladies strove to calm the distraught girl, who was, it appeared, Violet Manning, maid to the duchess and her granddaughter. Consuela took her off to her ‘room,' saying soothingly that she might have supper while her employers and their ‘guest' retired to the ‘parlour'.

“Jupiter,” muttered Vespa. “This wasn't the only suite I couldn't enter. How many more people have taken up residence in my house, I wonder?”

“So very fortunate that you caught the bottle,” purred the duchess. “It will nicely follow my stew, which you like,
si?
”

Despite his irritation, Vespa could not deny that the stew was superb, the meat and vegetables tender and the dumplings light as a feather. It was not an elaborate meal, but it was the best he had enjoyed since he left Richmond, and by the time Consuela carried in a lemon tart, fresh fruit, nuts and cheese, he was feeling far less hostile towards these unlikely trespassers.

The duchess decreed that since he was the only guest, they would not leave him alone with his wine. He pulled out her chair, but Consuela disdained his assistance and pushed back her own chair hurriedly. With a mischievous twinkle the duchess ordered him to bring the bottle, and led the way to an adjacent parlour in which several charming sketches adorned the walls, heavy draperies were closed over the windows, and three presentable chairs were drawn up before the empty hearth. “If you will be so good as to pour for us,” she went on outrageously, “you will find glasses on the credenza.”

Vespa tightened his lips but did not comment as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. “Mrs. Ottavio,” he said, offering one to the old lady.

“It is preferred that I am addressed as Your Grace, or Lady Francesca,” she corrected. “And you must pour also a glass for Consuela. Now you may sit here beside me and cease to look so shocked. There is nothing harmful about good wine—taken in moderation.”

“I am only glad my cellars please, ma'am.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, she said that some of the wine was satisfactory. “Though we had a bottle yesterday that was very poor.” She gave a trill of laughter. “
Si,
I comprehend that I am being naughty. You have the look of thunder and yearn to strangle me.” She leant forward to place slightly gout-twisted fingers on his knee. “You are charming, do you know? And I like it when you smile …
si,
like that. Which is goodness of you, considering that Consuela named you a murderer.”

He found that he could not resist the twinkle in her eyes. “Thank you. But you must know I am not, ma'am. I've only been here a week, and since neither you nor your granddaughter are in mourning clothes, I presume your son-in-law died at least a year since, whilst I was in Spain.”

“In a fall. Down your quarry.”

“Then I am sorry for it. But the quarry has not been in operation for several decades, and my steward tells me the area is plainly marked with ‘No Trespassing' and ‘Danger' signs.”

“Which makes it quite convenable that my dearest Papa should have been murdered, eh?” snapped Consuela. “Oh, but you are like all Englishmen. Cold and heartless!”

“If you mean we are not given to rushing about attacking people and making absolutely unwarranted accusations because trespassers fall into abandoned—”

“He did not
fall!
” she hissed. “He was
pushed!
No, you need not say that you do not believe me, for your thoughts are written all over your haughty nose!”

“Good grief, ma'am, your temper is as hasty as your tongue! How can I believe such a—”

“Bull and cock story? Go on, say it!”

“Well, I won't, since you got it hind end foremost. But if you did indeed witness such a wicked act, I must presume that the murderer was apprehended and brought to trial.”

Consuela's lower lip jutted rebelliously. She sipped her wine, then muttered, “I did not say I saw it.”

“Who did?”

“No one, apparently. Or whoever did is too afraid to speak. And if you believe whatever that great stupid Hezekiah Strickley says, you are a bigger fool than he is!”

“Con-sue-la,” said the duchess, who had been watching this exchange with faint amusement. “We are not peasants. We are not rudesbys. You must beg the pardon of our host.”

The “meadowlark” fixed Vespa with a stormy stare, and snarled, “Pray accept my apologies, sir,” as though the words burned her tongue.

He bowed. He was feeling the effects of the fall again, and his head had begun to pound ominously, but he was curious, and said, “Your father, I gather, had many enemies?”

At once, her temper flared. “No such thing! He had not an enemy in the whole wide world! Why must you say bad things like that? Oh, but this ‘gentleman' of yours is impossible, Grandmama! Not for another instant can I endure to listen to his—his nonsense!” And with a flounce of skirts and a toss of her dark locks, she was gone.

“Phew!” Vespa, who had risen politely, sat down again. “Is Miss Jones always so volatile, ma'am?”

The duchess raised her brows. “She is Italian.”

“But not on her father's side. Surely it is illogical that she should so loathe the English?”

“Only the men, Captain. And the logic, it is there—in her eyes, at the least. But—this, it is another story.”

“What of you, Lady Francesca? Do you believe your son-in-law was murdered here?”

For a long moment she gazed into her glass. “I have not decide what to think. But do not arrange it into your mind that my Consuela she is addle-brained. The thing is that she adored her Papa.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “You wonder, I think, what were my feelings about him. Well, he was a good man. But you may believe that my daughter's marriage was far from my dearest wish. They met in Rome. My Athena was ravishingly lovely, as is Consuela, you know.”

He bit back an unkind comment and poured them both another glass of wine.

“Athena had a great love for art,” said the duchess. “She saw some of Preston's work at a gallery and—”

“
Preston
Jones?” interrupted Vespa in astonishment. “Jove! He is very good. My father has one of his paintings. The gentleman was quite famous. I am astonished that he can have left you destitute!”

“You are also mistook. He did nothing of this kind. We have the most agreeable home.”

“Then,” he shrugged helplessly, “I'm all at sea. Why would you move in here?”

“If you will remind your manners and cease the interrupting, I will tell you this!”

Amused, he said meekly, “Your pardon, my lady. I shall say no more.”

“If that is a promise,” said Consuela, returning and pulling a chair closer to her grandmother, “I will come back.”

“Preston Jones,” began the duchess, “was well-born but a younger son. My Athena should have marry a rich man, but—” She sighed and spread her hands expressively. “What can one do when the heart it is given? So I permit the marriage and we leave our warm and golden Italy and come to your cold, grey England. It is here that Consuela is born. Preston's work was not so very much admired for many years, and we are no longer rich, you understand. But I have my jewels to sell if necessitated, and his elder brother was so kind as to deed him a house near to this place. Preston came here with the reluctance, and—”

“—And he fell in love with the village and the countryside,” put in Consuela nostalgically.

The duchess nodded. “And especially did Preston love Alabaster Royal.”

“Which is a silly name, however you look at it,” said Consuela. “No kings ever lived here so far as I have heard. Pure pomp and snobbery.”

“It was the
gift
of a king to my maternal ancestors,” said Vespa, stung. “And when a king awards an estate, the owner is entitled to include the word ‘royal' in its—”

“La, la, la, la, la!” She yawned behind her hand. “How greatly I am impressed!”

Perhaps because his headache was worsening, he said irritably, “What you are is the rudest female I've ever met! I wonder, ma'am, that you never taught your granddaughter—”

The duchess came to her feet. Her chin very prominent and her eyes flashing, she was so fiercely regal that Vespa sprang up also and, apprehensive, stepped back. “This it is enough of the sufficiency!” she cried. “Consuela, your behavior is unimportable—”

“Insupportable, dearest Grandmama,” corrected Consuela meekly.

“Just as I said. This Captain Vespa he is not quite polite either, but he is justified in his suppose that you have never had the governess or going to seminary. You will leave us at once, if you please. Or if you do not please! Go!”

Obviously distressed, Consuela stammered, “But—but dearest, I—”

“
At once!
You have disgrace me! I am shamed for you,
Signorina!
”

At this, Consuela flushed scarlet, her lashes fell, and with a bobbed curtsy, she crept away.

“I'll—er—be leaving, ma'am,” said Vespa uneasily.

The old lady sat down and with a magnificent gesture commanded, “You will sit, and you will listen, for I shall not have you carry away a bad expression of us!”

He obeyed, intrigued by this strange little woman who addressed him as though he was actually a guest in her house.

“Now, where am I?” she murmured, “Ah, yes. Preston's portraits and his paintings of the village and the surrounded country began to sell, and soon his name was known. But always his first love is this estate. The country life it does not please me. I prefer London. But I have cared for Consuela since her dear mother died when she had but ten years. The child is wild and of a temperance, but she has also the great heart and carings for others. Our house is a mile north of the village, and a good house, but Preston was seldom there. He is the artist; time, it is forgot when he work. He is often here, for most of the times there is no others about, so he can sketch and paint in peace. Consuela, she come with him—until—” She paused.

“Your pardon, ma'am,” said Vespa cautiously. “You said that most of the time no one else was here. Do you say that sometimes others
were
here?”

She nodded. “Men. My Consuela she is fair of face, and her figure it is what gentlemen admire, you will have seen this.”

“And these men—er—annoyed her?”

“
Si.
Preston, he off in his other world, but at last he notice and there is trouble.”

“Do you know who these men were? And what they were about?”

“One I know. It was the same that you raise your voice to last week. This man who has the name which he is not.”

“Gentry? I found him inside this house. He said he was returning a desk he'd borrowed, but it seemed more likely he was taking it. Dashed if I know why. Do you know anything of the matter?”

“I know he came here. With others. But not inside, I think, for Strickley was always about. Sir Larson, he is too pleased by my Consuela. He and Preston have the big quarrel. Gentry, he tell Preston to keep away from Alabaster, and Preston he say Gentry have no business to speak such things.”

“So Mr. Jones continued to come here? What about Gentry and his friends?”

“When Preston sees them, he go where they are not, and he paints.”

“But he didn't know who the others were? Or why they were on the estate?”

“I think not. No.”

“What about Miss Consuela? Did she recognize any of them?”

“Gentry, only. And his friend. The others she only see once, when her Papa stays so late it gets dark and she comes to find him and there is a coach going away. A gentleman's coach of luxury. Preston, he was inside this house. When he sees Consuela, he is very angry and he say she should come here never. That it is a evil place, with evil presences.” She met Vespa's eyes levelly. “The very next day, Preston falls into the quarry.”