Snobbery With Violence Part 13

"But surely she was kept behind for questioning by the police?"

"She left the morning after Miss Gore-Desmond was found dead. She said she would travel to the parents' home."

"What was her name?"

"Quinn, sir."

"Becket, we'd better get over to that inquest. The Gore-Desmonds will be there and with luck the lady's maid. But the fact that Colette disappeared and not Quinn is most odd. Quinn would know her mistress's secrets. What an amateur I am. I should have thought of the lady's maid right away."

"Perhaps it is because you are more used to covering things up than exposing them," said Rose.

"That was a rather nasty thing to say."

"It was not meant to be nasty. It was a statement of fact."

"Well, here's a statement of fact. You are the most unfemi-nine woman I have ever come across."

Becket cleared his throat. "I will bring the car round, sir. The ladies will wish to accompany us."

Becket left the room quickly before Harry could protest.

"Where is the inquest to be held?" asked Rose.

"At the coroner's court in Creinton, a market town near here."

"Very well," said Rose. "We will meet you outside in the courtyard in half an hour."

"Make it fifteen minutes," said Harry. l l 6 l l 6 Mrs. Gore-Desmond's anguished cry in court that her daughter had never touched a.r.s.enic did not sway the verdict of accidental death.

Outside the courtroom the marquess was in high good humour which he tried to hide. Daisy nudged Rose's arm and whispered, "That's Quinn, the lady's maid, over there."

Rose hurried towards a tall, severe-looking woman, the very opposite of Daisy.

"I am sorry for your loss," began Rose.

Quinn curtsied and nodded. "I am surprised you did not wait to be interrogated by the police," said Rose.

"Our local police called on me to take a statement. I told them that Miss Gore-Desmond had never used a.r.s.enic for cosmetic purposes. I left to be with Mr. and Mrs. Gore-Desmond. Mrs. Gore-Desmond's lady's maid had recently left and she was advertising for another. I knew I could get the job if I moved quickly."

"Was Miss Gore-Desmond romantically interested in any of the gentlemen at the castle?"

Quinn stared at Rose from under the shadow of an enormous black hat. "I think she found them all rather silly, to tell the truth. But she was not the sort of lady to chatter to servants." The stare hardened even more, implying that Rose was one of the ones that did. "Now, if you will excuse me, my lady."

Harry went up to the marquess. "It turns out you did not need my services after all," he said.

"Good of you to come, all the same," said the marquess, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't rush off. As I said before, stay and enjoy the house party."

"You are too kind."

"There's Lady Rose looking for you, you lucky dog." The marquess grinned and strolled off towards his carriage.

Rose came up to Harry and told him about what Quinn had said. "At least we know she's all right," said Harry when Rose had finished. "But no wonder Kerridge gets so furious. What a shameful business. Quinn was not even called as a witness."

"So your job is over. Y>u don't need to help to hide anything," said Rose. "All the facts have been buried as deep as poor Miss Gore-Desmond is shortly going to be."

"I have been asked to stay on as a guest and I am determined to get to the bottom of this mystery."

"I will help you," said Rose eagerly. "We are the only ones here, apart from Lord Hedley. I can start to talk about the inquest at luncheon and see what they all say during conversation."

"If there is any conversation about this death, it will be all about how it is not really necessary to wear mourning."

"If only the body could be exhumed."

"But the beauty of a.r.s.enic," said Harry, "is that it clears out of the organs very quickly."

"It stays in the nails and hair," said Rose.

It always irritated Harry when Rose proved again that she knew more about a subject than he did.

"You look very attractive in black," he said, smiling down at her.

"I beg your pardon! Oh, you feel obliged to flirt like the other men in the party. You do not have to waste time on such frivolities with me."

"Are you being deliberately infuriating, or are you just gauche?"

Rose bridled. "I think you should keep your mind on essentials. Miss Gore-Desmond may have been murdered."

"You would make a good nanny. Stop giving me orders. It is time we went back."

Luncheon was a jolly affair for all but Rose and Harry. Everyone seemed brightened up by the fact that accidental death had been confirmed. What goes on in their heads, wondered Rose. Look at Margaret, elegant and serene. How could she? Perhaps it was time to unsettle them all. She turned to Sir Gerald Burke on her right and said, "I met Miss Gore-Desmond's maid, Quinn, at the inquest. She told me her mistress had never used a.r.s.enic cosmetically to clear her skin."

"It's not very fas.h.i.+onable these days," he said. "She probably kept it a secret."

"I didn't think one could have secrets from one's lady's maid."

"Oh, one can, I gather, with professional, well-trained lady's maids. If you will forgive me for saying so, I notice that you are a trifle over-familiar with yours."

"I do not believe servants should be treated as pieces of machinery. They have hearts and souls and feelings, just like us."

"Nonsense. They do not have the sensitive finer feelings of their betters. They are made of coa.r.s.er fibre."

"Surely that is nonsense."

Sir Gerald stared at her a moment and then turned away to speak to Deborah Peterson.

Rose decided to try her luck with Clive Fraser on her right. "I went to the inquest this morning," she began.

"How horrid for you," he said, his handsome face creased in sympathy. "No place for a lady. Still, good verdict."

"I met Quinn, Miss Gore-Desmond's lady's maid. She said her mistress had never used a.r.s.enic."

"Jolly good. Loyal servant, what."

"But I think she was telling the truth."

His eyes stared at her as if trying to solve a complex problem. Then he shook his head and said, "The weather's turned a bit sharp. Jolly castle, this. Like the ones in Young England. Young England. Only thing I ever read were the stories in those magazines. Knights and ladies. You must think me sentimental, but I'm a softhearted chap." Only thing I ever read were the stories in those magazines. Knights and ladies. You must think me sentimental, but I'm a softhearted chap."

"Then you must have noticed the distressing state of the Telby villagers-being soft-hearted, I mean."

He goggled at her. "What about them? Tidy little pub."

"I believe the pub, like the village, is owned by Lord Hedley. He obviously favours it, but not the housing or condition of the villagers."

"Wait a bit... wait a bit." He banged his head. "You're one of the Shrieking Sisterhood. That's why you've these odd ideas. Pity. YOU being so pretty and all." being so pretty and all."

He turned away to speak to Lady Trumpington on his other side. By order of precedence, Rose should have been at the head of the table next to the marquess, but Hedley seemed to delight in the unconventionality of ignoring strict rules of protocol.

Harry covertly watched Rose repulse first the one and then the other. He felt impatient. If she would only try to flirt a bit, be a bit more feminine, she would get more out of them.

So after the male guests had set out for an afternoon's shooting, he asked Rose if she would care to go for a walk.

Soon they were walking out over the drawbridge under a steel-grey sky. Daisy and Becket were walking behind.

"I could not help noticing your behaviour at luncheon," began Harry.

"And what was wrong with it, may I ask? I was simply trying to elicit information."

"You won't get any information out of any of them if you hint at murder and go on like the grand inquisitor. If Hedley gets to hear of your suspicions, he'll send you home."

"Perhaps that would be a good idea," said Rose. "I am weary of this fake castle, its guests, and you."

"See what I mean? If you wish me to treat you like an equal-then go and boil your head, you rude ... thing."

"How dare you speak to me like this." Rose stopped and glared at him, her fists clenched.

"You deserve it. I bet you I can get more information over the tea-table than you can."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"By being my charming self."

"I wonder what that charming self is like. You see, I have never met it." Rose swung round. "Come along, Daisy. It is too cold. I wish to go indoors."

"What's upset you?" asked Daisy, trotting along to keep up with Rose's fast pace.

"Insufferable cad!"

"The captain. What did he say?"

"He criticized my behaviour at luncheon. He said I would never get any information if I kept hinting at murder and going on like the grand inquisitor. He even bet me he could get more information at afternoon tea than I could."

"Now, there's a challenge," said Daisy. "And I know just what you should do."

"What?"

"That pretty chiffon-and-lace tea-gown, the rose-coloured one. Then a softer hairstyle-a few tendrils escaping and lying on your neck. Your pearls."

"I don't understand this, Daisy."

"You've got to look ever so vulnerable. You twitter that you're afraid. Why? they'll ask. And you bend your neck and say in a whisper that Miss Gore-Desmond's death frightened you. You say you've always been considered psychic and are a great follower of Madame Blavatsky, raising the dead and all that. Hint that her spirit has been in touch with you."

"They will think me extremely silly."

"Oh, no, start with the ladies and you'll be amazed. Had a friend down in Whitechapel who claimed to be a medium and she charged a lot for getting in touch with the dead. She worked hard. Read all the obituaries. Had the rich coming down from the West End to consult her. 'A few more,' she says to me, 'and I'm off to America.' "

"And did she go?"

"No, the police raided her and found out all the secrets of wires under the table, gauze on wires to make it look as if a spirit was flying across the room, and they got her boy-friend as well for doing all the male voices. He was good, too. Worked in the halls as a ventriloquist."

Rose started that afternoon with the American sisters, Harriet and Deborah, who were usually shunned by the rest, who were jealous of their wealth.

Both girls had collected plates of cake and were sitting at a lace-draped table by the window. The window was of stained gla.s.s, depicting a knight slaying a dragon. Because it allowed very little light in, all the gaslights had been turned up full.

"May I join you?" asked Rose.

"By all means," said Harriet. "If I may say so, Lady Rose, you are a trifle pale."

Daisy had liberally dusted Rose's face with powder. Rose had refused white lead make-up despite Daisy's protests that Lillie Langtry used it. She did not want to die of lead poisoning.

"I know I am being silly," said Rose, bowing her head. "But I am frightened."

"Oh, the death of that poor girl," said Harriet. "Well, she did it to herself."

"May I tell you something in confidence?" asked Rose.

They both leaned towards her. "Go on."

"Have you read the teachings of Madame Blavatsky?"

"The spiritualist. We tried to, but Ma caught us with it and threw the book out of the window saying the woman was a dangerous charlatan."

d.a.m.n all Americans and their rotten common sense, thought Rose.

"You must think me such a silly-billy," she whispered, "but, you see, I have always been considered psychic, and at night I can feel Mary Gore-Desmond's presence."

Harriet exchanged glances with her sister. "Look, don't tell anyone, Lady Rose, but we've got a ouija board with us. Would you like to try? I mean, it's not as if we miss her or anything, and it will make us upset."

"You don't miss her?"