Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) Read online

  I watched him open the door and start in surprise. “Oh, good morning, sir. We had no idea that you were coming. You’ve caught us off guard. Please do come in. Most inclement weather for a drive, isn’t it?”

  Then the door opened wider and into the hall came Darcy, followed by an elegant creature hidden under a black, hooded cape. Huxstep shut the door behind them.

  “I will inform Their Graces that you are here,” he said and hurried off again.

  I was about to go to Darcy, then hesitated at the thought that he’d brought a woman with him—an elegant woman at that. Who on earth could she be? Not one of his sisters. They weren’t tall, dark or sophisticated like that. Then the woman said, “If I’d known it was going to bucket down like this in the country I’d never have left town.” The hood was thrown back and beneath it was Belinda.

  I rushed over to them. “You came. It’s amazing. How did you find out? Who called you?”

  Darcy held out his hands to me. “Hello, old thing. I won’t hug you—I’d get you rather wet. Hold on.” And he removed his overcoat, looking around in vain for a servant to take it. “But why do you seem so surprised to see me? Didn’t I tell you I’d come down as soon as I could? And do you see who I brought with me? I met her at Crockfords last night, and she said she was pining for you and had something she was about to post to you, so why didn’t she come with me and deliver it in person?”

  “Your shoe, darling,” Belinda said, beaming at me. “Your lost evening slipper? I retrieved it from the terrible Mrs. Tombs. I think I deserve a medal for braving that dragon. And when Darcy said he was coming down to help the heir to the Eynsford estate, I was curious to see the backwoods boy for myself.”

  Darcy gave me a wink. “I might hand over the job. If anyone can educate a backwoods Australian, it is Belinda.”

  “I don’t think the dowager duchess meant that kind of education,” I said as I stepped forward to kiss Belinda’s cheek. “But it’s lovely to see you both. So you just decided to come down today. Nobody telephoned you? You haven’t heard the news?”

  “What news?”

  “Terrible things have been happening. The duke has been murdered. Lady Irene was drugged and nearly died, and the police are on their way.”

  “Good God,” Darcy muttered. “Any idea what was behind this? Are there any crazy members of the family locked away in a tower?”

  “It’s not funny, Darcy,” I said. “It’s rather alarming, actually. I was the one who found the body, and he’d been stabbed with . . .” I went to say, “with Jack’s knife,” but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Obviously it would come out in the police investigation. Until then, I was going to keep quiet.

  “The duke has been murdered?” Belinda said quietly. “You mean Cedric? Poor Cedric has been murdered? But that’s too, too awful.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “You know Cedric Altringham?”

  She put her hand to her heart. “Cedric and I—thick as thieves, darling. That was another reason for coming down here—to surprise dear Cedric.”

  “I’m more than amazed,” I said. “I thought Cedric didn’t like anybody.”

  “That was only the front he put up to keep people at bay. Underneath—what a sweetie pie.”

  I shook my head, trying to come to terms with Cedric Altringham being a sweetie pie. “My impression was that he couldn’t stand women,” I said. “He always had a bevy of young men around him, and absolutely refused to marry, which was why Darcy had to go in search of Jack.”

  Belinda paused as if thinking. “Jack—he’s the young Australian?”

  “He is.”

  “Darcy said he’s a lot of fun. I gather they got up to high jinks together on the ship home.”

  “I can believe it.” I glanced at Darcy, who grinned.

  Belinda shifted uneasily. “Where is everybody?” she asked. “Usually these houses keep a pack of servants, and nobody has come to take our coats yet. I’m freezing out here. And we’ve luggage in the motor.”

  “The dowager duchess is breaking the news to the servants at this moment,” I said. “And introducing them to the new duke.”

  “So she’s acknowledged that Jack is the rightful heir, has she?” Darcy asked.

  “Oh yes. Fawning all over him. He looks just like his father, you see.”

  “Well, that’s good, at least,” Darcy said. “My journey to Australia was not in vain. Poor old Jack. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.”

  “Her Grace was hoping you’d come down and guide him along for a bit, and now here you are.” I slipped my hand through his. “Goodness, you’re freezing.”

  “Yes, well the motor I borrowed had a rag top that leaked and no heating,” he said.

  “Leave your coats on the floor and come through to the Long Gallery. I gather there is food and coffee there.”

  “Thank God,” Belinda said. “I should have worn my mink and fur boots.”

  As we walked, something struck me. “Belinda, you said you’ve brought luggage. Are you planning to stay too? I’m not sure about that. The dowager duchess is a stickler for protocol.”

  “You think she’d turn away a good chum of poor old Cedric?” she said. “I just flung a few things into a bag just in case I decided to stay. I don’t have to. But on the drive down, it occurred to me that I might be some help. You know, give the young chap some pointers,” she said. “He’ll have to know how to handle sophisticated women, and he’ll find himself the most eligible bachelor in England, won’t he?”

  She stalked on ahead. I looked across at Darcy, and he raised an eyebrow, making me smile. We entered the Long Gallery. Belinda was already bearing down on the cake dishes with their tiers of good things to eat and the silver coffeepot on a tray and the roaring fire.

  Darcy drew near to me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling that Jack can take care of himself.”

  “I hope so,” I replied. “Because I have a feeling he’s going to need a bit of help in the days to come. He’s going to need someone on his side.” I drew closer to Darcy, my hand brushing against his. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I added, and kissed his cold cheek. “This beastly business. I wish I weren’t mixed up in it.”

  “I presume you’re only an innocent bystander,” he said.

  “Witness,” I said. “I found him, Darcy. I’m going to have to face the police and probably the press. I just wish I hadn’t been the one who found him. And there’s a murderer at large too. Probably someone in this house.”

  He slipped his hand through mine. “Don’t worry. I’m here now,” he said. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  “I’m also glad you’re here, because . . .” I began. I was going to add my suspicion that something wasn’t right about that crime scene. But as I pictured it in my mind, I couldn’t think exactly what. I could see Cedric lying there with Jack’s knife sticking out of his back, his coat over him and water splashing over his arm and head. Exactly what was bothering me? I shook my head and went into the Long Gallery alongside Darcy.

  Chapter 18

  The rest of the family was already seated around the food and near the fire. The old sisters were munching away merrily as if this was any other morning and they hadn’t just lost their nephew.

  The twins were working their way through a plate of biscuits. Sissy sat by the fire, watching, hoping that someone would pass her something, I suspect, but too polite to ask. There was no sign of the Starlings.

  Virginia was the first to notice us. “Why, it’s my favorite handsome man come back to see me,” she said, holding out her hand to Darcy. “How good of you to come in our hour of need.”

  Darcy did as expected and went over to kiss the extended hand. Then he kissed that of Princess Charlotte with an attractive little Continental bow. “Your Highness,” he murmured.

  “Such perf
ect manners,” she murmured, fluttering eyelashes at him. It’s that Irish blarney coming out, I thought. I was just pouring coffee for the new arrivals when Edwina entered the room.

  “Mr. O’Mara—you’ve come. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. You’ve heard our terrible news, of course. My grandson will need your guidance in the coming days.” She stopped, having just noticed Belinda, and raised her lorgnette up to examine her.

  “And who have we here?” she asked.

  “Your Grace, this is my friend Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “She motored down with Mr. O’Mara, and brought me some things I’d left behind in London.”

  “Warburton-Stoke?” Edwina asked. “Hampshire family?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Belinda said.

  “I believe we have a cousin who married a Warburton-Stoke, don’t we, Charlotte?”

  “Primrose Haversham, wasn’t it?” Charlotte and Virginia looked at each other for confirmation.

  “I have a great-aunt Primrose,” Belinda said.

  They smiled and nodded. “Then we must be related. How delightful. How I wish that you had arrived at a happier moment.” Belinda had undergone the usual ordeal by fire of the aristocracy. Those time-honored questions. Who are your family? Do we know them? Are we related to them? In other words, is she one of us and does she belong here? Now that a relationship had been proven, she was accepted.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear the news about your son,” Belinda said.

  “Belinda was a friend of Cedric,” I said.

  Belinda blushed but said nothing.

  “My son, friends with a young woman? How extraordinary,” Edwina said. “I wish he’d brought you down here, my dear. Rather than those dubious young men.”

  “Belinda’s a fashion designer,” I explained. “She has worked with Chanel.”

  “Ah, so that explains it.” Edwina nodded. “Cedric mentioned he had found a brilliant costume designer for his new play. So that was you, was it?”

  “I’m not sure which play he was talking about,” Belinda said modestly, eyes focused on the pile of sandwiches. “He had irons in so many fires, didn’t he?”

  “He did. And none of them in the right fires, if you want my opinion,” Edwina said. “But you are more than welcome here, and I’m sure Cedric’s death has shocked you as much as the rest of us.”

  “Devastated,” Belinda said. “I feel utterly hollow.” She looked around. “That poor boy, suddenly finding himself Duke of Eynsford. Where is he?”

  “My grandson needed some time to be alone to digest this news,” Edwina said. “I can’t say that I blame him. He’ll be down when the inspector gets here.” She stopped and stared out of the window. “Ah, here comes what looks like a police motorcar now. They made good time from Sevenoaks.”

  A black motorcar came up the driveway, stopping outside the front door. A large man with a red face and an impressive paunch extricated himself from the backseat and stood staring up at the front of the house as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A younger, plainclothes officer exited from the other side of the car while two bobbies in uniform emerged from the front seats. The large man must have said something to the others because they all grinned. I noticed that the rain had slowed to a drizzle

  At this point Mr. Huxstep, with his impeccable timing, appeared at the front door with a large umbrella.

  “Are you the duke?” a rather loud voice demanded, as the big man strode up the front steps and in through the door while Huxstep tried to keep up with him.

  “No sir, I am His Grace’s butler,” Huxstep replied with great dignity. “The dowager duchess is expecting you. Whom shall I say is calling?”

  “Detective Chief Inspector Fairbotham, Royal Kent Constabulary,” the big man’s voice boomed as they entered the entrance hall. “This young chap is Stubbins, my sergeant. I’m told there’s been a murder on this estate. Someone’s not having me on, are they? It’s not the bright young things’ way of livening up a rainy day by calling out the police on false pretenses?”

  Huxstep chose not to answer that. “If you’d like to follow me to the library, I will inform Her Grace that you are here.”

  And the voices died away down the hall.

  “What an uncouth-looking man,” Edwina said. “And with a northern accent too. I wonder why the Royal Kent Constabulary had to go looking for an inspector from northern climes. I’ve always felt that civilization, as we know it, ended at a line drawn between Oxford and Cambridge.”

  Huxstep now appeared in the doorway. “I’ve shown Detective Chief Inspector Fairbotham into the library, Your Grace.”

  Nick and Katherine nudged one another. “He did have more than a fair botham, wouldn’t you say, Kat? His name should be changed to Large-botham.”

  “That is enough, children.” Edwina frowned. “One does not mock those who are socially beneath us. It simply isn’t done.” She turned to Huxstep. “Please make sure that His Grace and Cedric’s young men know that they will be wanted downstairs shortly. I’m glad you put the inspector in the library. Most suitable. One does not want the man to be overawed by his surroundings in a room that is too large. It makes them so defensive.”

  She held out her hand to me. “Georgiana, I am going to speak with him first, to make sure he gets his facts right and doesn’t come up with any strange ideas. Since you were the one who discovered my son’s body, maybe you should come with me.”

  “If you wish, Your Grace,” I said, trying to think of a way that I could bring Darcy along with me. Frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to coming face-to-face with that large, loud police inspector. I’d had my share of encounters with the police during the past few years and not many of them had been pleasant. It had been my experience that most of them had a chip on the shoulder toward the aristocracy.

  The walk down the hall seemed to take forever. Huxstep went ahead, opening the door for us and announcing, “Her Grace, the dowager duchess of Eynsford, and Lady Georgiana Rannoch.”

  Inspector Fairbotham rose to his feet, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you ladies have had to get involved with this, but I understand there has been a murder on your property. Do you happen to know the name of the deceased?”

  “Of course I know his name. It’s my son the Duke of Eynsford,” Edwina said testily.

  “The duke? You saw his body yourself, did you? You identified him?”

  “I did.”

  The inspector looked surprised and a little impressed. “And where was he found?”

  “We have a little glen leading down from the lake,” Edwina said. “He was lying beside the path.”

  “Who found him initially?”

  “Chief Inspector, may I suggest that we all take a seat, if this is to be a long conversation?” Edwina said. “I find conversing while still standing most uncivilized.” She motioned the inspector to an armchair and took the other armchair herself, leaving the upright chairs to the sergeant and me.

  “Right, let’s begin again, shall we?” he said. “Who found him?”

  “I did,” I said. “He had arranged to meet with an architect this morning to look at the designs for an amphitheater he was planning to build on the property. It seems that he left the house quite early this morning to have another look at the site. When the architect arrived, I volunteered to escort him to meet the duke. We came upon his body in the glen, and rushed straight back to the house to call the police.”

  “And where is the body now?”

  “Still lying exactly as it was,” I said. “We knew you’d want to take a look at the crime scene. Her Grace had it covered with a tarpaulin so that the rain didn’t wash away all the clues.”

  The inspector nodded. “That was thoughtful of you. So the body is still lying where it was found, under a tarpaulin, in what you describe as a glen, which I thought only existed
up in my part of the world.” He had attempted to make a joke, I suspect, but Edwina was not amused.

  “My husband’s grandfather enjoyed his fishing expeditions to Scotland so much that he re-created a glen on the property,” she said stiffly.

  The big man grinned. “What you aristocrats will do to amuse yourselves!”

  “I don’t think it is any concern of yours how we choose to landscape our property,” Edwina said even more stiffly. It was clear she had taken an instant dislike to him.

  “So back to you, miss.” He turned back to face me.

  “Chief Inspector, may I point out that Lady Georgiana is also the daughter of a duke, granddaughter of a royal princess, and thus is not a ‘miss,’” Edwina said. “One addresses the daughter of a duke as ‘my lady,’ and one addresses the wife or widow of a duke as ‘Your Grace.’”

  “I think you’ll find, my lady,” he said, with great emphasis on the last two words, “that in a police investigation, I’m the person in charge. At this moment, everybody in this house is a suspect in a murder inquiry so it’s your job to make sure my inquiries go as smoothly as possible, without interruptions. Now, can we get on without interruption?”

  Edwina’s face turned so red I thought she might explode. “I will have a word with my friend the Lord Lieutenant of Kent,” she said. “He may feel that Scotland Yard should be called in. I am not sure that the Kentish constabulary is equipped to handle a case of this magnitude.”

  The chief inspector’s face had also turned red, as if he was using all his willpower not to say something he’d regret later. “In my opinion, madam, there isn’t much difference between the murder of a hooligan on the streets of London and the murder of a duke on a big estate. They all come down to the same basic human emotions—jealousy, fear, greed and revenge. So don’t worry: I am more than equipped to handle your case. I will now question this young lady and then, hopefully, our police surgeon and photographer will have shown up with the van, and we can take a look at the body.”