Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Read online

  “Very well, my lady,” he said.

  I watched him go. Was I being fooled again? I wondered. Would he go down to the butler’s pantry with a smirk on his face? I went to rejoin Mummy and to have coffee. “Shall we go to see the gardeners now?” I asked. “Maybe we can do a tour of the grounds first and you can see what is being grown. Although I have to warn you it is horribly neglected. But I have Old Ben starting again this week and with any luck he’ll whip the two idle boys into shape.”

  “You are becoming quite a hard taskmistress,” Mummy said, eyeing me with astonishment. “Who would have thought that my awkward and timid Georgie would turn into a replica of her great-grandmother?”

  “I’m rather amazed at myself,” I said. “But I was so looking forward to living here and then to find that the place had gone to seed was just too much.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “It certainly wasn’t so drab and dingy when I lived here. There was a lovely painting of a horseman on the wall over there, I remember. What happened to that?”

  “Do you think Sir Hubert fell on hard times and had to sell some things?” I asked. “So many people lost money in the crash of twenty-nine. Daddy lost all of his, didn’t he?”

  “Hubert certainly has enough to go off on his wretched expeditions all the time,” Mummy said, “and I think he has plenty of income. The family has sugar plantations in Jamaica, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Oh yes. And some sort of factories in Yorkshire. No, darling, if you are his heir, I don’t think you are going to starve.”

  “Crikey,” I said. Then I stopped, my mouth dropping open. “Mummy, I bumped into Lady Mountjoy yesterday morning and she said there had been burglaries in the neighborhood. You don’t think this house has been burgled, do you? You’ve noticed several items missing.”

  “Ask Plunkett.”

  “He’s only been here for less than a year. It could have been before that.”

  I rang for him again. He had a wary look now on his face, unsure of what he was about to be accused of this time.

  “Yes, I heard about the burglaries, your ladyship,” he said. “And luckily they did not come here. I think the master wisely locked away the valuables before he went. There is one small room in his wing that has remained locked and we have no key.”

  “That’s good news,” I said. “I would hate to think that Sir Hubert was robbed while he was away.”

  We both looked up as the front doorbell jangled. Plunkett went to answer it. He was gone quite a long time and came back with a strange look on his face. “It is a police inspector,” he said, “and he is asking for you.”

  “Show him into the library, please,” I said.

  Mummy and I exchanged a questioning look as I left the room.

  Although the man was in plain clothes one could tell immediately that he was a policeman. There is a certain look about them. He held out his hand to me. “Detective Inspector Travers. Sussex Constabulary. And am I speaking to the mistress of the household?”

  “I’m Lady Georgiana Rannoch,” I said. “The house belongs to Sir Hubert Anstruther and I am only a guest here. Please take a seat. How may I help you?”

  “You’re only a guest, you say. Is Sir Hubert available?”

  “About as unavailable as possible. He is mountain climbing in the Andes.” I grinned. His face remained dour.

  “I am here because we understand that you had a visit from a Mr. Broadbent last Friday.”

  “We might have done,” I said. “Although I didn’t have a chance to speak with him personally. He is the man who was reported missing, isn’t he? I saw his photograph in the Times yesterday morning.”

  “That is correct. So you recognized the man but didn’t speak with him.”

  “I only saw him from an upstairs window,” I said. As I answered my brain was racing ahead, realizing I’d have to tell him about old Lady Anstruther and he’d have to speak with her and she might well be sent back to the home.

  “The butler did not alert you to the fact that there was a visitor?”

  “He did not. I reprimanded him for it afterward.”

  “So you never spoke with the man in person? Never heard what he had to say?”

  “The butler saw no reason to call me as the visitor had not come to see me and the person he had come to see was unavailable.”

  He cleared his throat. “The butler tells me that the man had come to see Sir Hubert Anstruther, regarding transactions for his aged mother. Is that correct?”

  Plunkett certainly thought on his feet. “Yes, something to do with his aged mother,” I agreed.

  “And when he heard that Sir Hubert was not in residence he left immediately.” He looked at me for confirmation. “He never came inside?”

  “Yes, that is what I was told. As I said, I was upstairs the whole time.”

  “About what time would this have been?”

  I frowned. “About three o’clock, maybe?”

  “Yes, that agrees with what the butler told me.”

  “I was also told that the man said he had other important meetings that afternoon, which was why he was so annoyed at wasting his time with us.”

  “I see.” He nodded. “Yes, we have notes from his agenda at the office indicating addresses in this part of the world. We will be following up on them.”

  He got to his feet. “So you have no idea why he wanted to see Sir Hubert? Why he came all this way without telephoning or sending a letter first?”

  “Absolutely no idea,” I said. “I have only been living here a few days myself so I can’t verify whether a letter was written in advance or not. As I have said more than once, I was upstairs and the whole encounter with the visitor could only have lasted a few minutes.”

  He held out his hand. “Thank you, Lady Georgiana. We shall be following up with other addresses he had in his diary. But if you can think of anything else that might be useful, here is my card. Please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  Plunkett had been waiting in the doorway, clearly listening to what had been said. He gave me a quick glance as he led out the inspector. Did I see relief on his face?

  Chapter 22

  MONDAY, JULY 1

  EYNSLEIGH

  This is getting more confusing by the minute. I don’t quite know what to believe. Plunkett is covering up for Lady Anstruther. Did she really murder that poor man? And why is he so keen to keep her here and cover up for her?

  I heard the front door shut and then Plunkett hurried up to me as I was leaving the library and returning to the morning room.

  “I want to thank you, my lady.”

  “For what, Plunkett?”

  “For not contradicting me when I told the inspector the man had come to see Sir Hubert and not his mother. I thought it was simpler, you see. And of course I was trying to protect her. If he’d seen her in the state she is now, well, he might have had her sent straight back to that facility. He might even have suspected—” He broke off. “Now it’s all good. I expect they’ll be able to locate the missing man soon enough.”

  I went back to Mummy and related my conversation with the inspector. She wasn’t exactly displaying much interest. “I told you, darling, the silly man has absconded with funds. It will all come out soon enough.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I know men, darling. Trust me, I know men.”

  Nobody could dispute that. I looked at her draped on the sofa like a tragic heroine about to die of consumption. I held out my hand. “Come on, get up. Let’s go and look at the grounds and you can choose the flowers you want in the rooms.”

  She sighed. “If we must. Frankly I find it hard to do anything at the moment. I can’t believe my life is over.”

  “I’m sure it’s not over,” I said. “But Max will have his hands full arranging his father’s funeral.”

  “And comforting that old cow of a mother.” She spat out the words. “Why couldn’t she have been the one to die?”

  “That’s not nice, Mummy.”

  “I know.” She sighed again. “I just don’t feel nice at the moment.”

  I tugged at her. “Come on. A walk in the fresh air will do you good.”

  She allowed herself to be led to the front door. It was a glorious sunny afternoon and the air was fragrant with the scent of flowers as well as new-mown grass. I also caught a whiff of burning wood. Somewhere nearby there was a bonfire. All the familiar smells of the English countryside. We passed the fountain and crossed the lawn to the herbaceous borders. Mummy found rosebushes that she liked and blue hydrangeas and peonies. She quite cheered up. “The grounds here are lovely, aren’t they?” she said. “Where is that little gazebo where Hubert proposed to me?”

  “A gazebo? I don’t remember it.”

  “For all his rugged appearance and his mountaineering stunts he was a romantic sort of chap.” A dreamy look came over her face and I wondered if she was considering the possibility of re-snagging him once he came home (if Max was a nonstarter, that was.)

  “So where is this gazebo?”

  She stood looking around, frowning; then she pointed. “I think it’s in that direction, past that stand of trees,” she said. “I know it was in a wild and wooded part of the estate. There used to be a herd of deer.”

  “I remember the deer,” I said. “I wonder if any of them are still here. Come on. Let’s go and see if we can find your gazebo.”

  “It will be sad and neglected and all in ruins and I’ll only start to brood about what might have been.” She brushed a hand across her face. I noticed that actresses always accompany their words with gestures.

  I laughed. “You are always so dramatic. Come on. I want to see it. I don’t remember it at all. I suppose I wasn’t allowed to wander that far from the house when I was little.”

  “You had a little pony, but they only let you ride out with the groom. Do you remember your pony? Wasn’t it called Squibs?”

  “I do remember it. A fat and round little thing. It was almost impossible to fall off.” I laughed, but as the laugh faded I found myself thinking. I’d had a pony. This had been a place of luxury. Where had it all gone?

  We left the manicured part of the grounds. Now there was uneven meadow grass underfoot and tall oak and beech trees that provided dappled shade.

  “There was also a little chapel, deep in the woods,” Mummy said suddenly. “The family was Catholic, you know, and mass had to be said in secret in those days. I understand there was a secret passage from the house to the chapel. It was one of those times when being the wrong religion meant having your head chopped off.”

  “I’m glad it’s not like that now, or Darcy and I could never marry,” I said. “Let’s go and find the chapel too.”

  “I haven’t worn stout shoes,” she said. “They’ll be ruined in this thick grass.”

  “There’s a path over this way. And I’m sure you have plenty more pairs.”

  She gave me a sideways glance. “I’m not sure that I like this new assertive daughter. You were always quite a submissive little thing.”

  “I’ve had to learn to live on my own. I’ve had to struggle like you. It makes one tougher.”

  She took my hand. “It certainly does. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.” Then she looked up at me. “I’m so glad I came here. If I’d stayed in London I would have been wallowing in despair.”

  We had reached a place where the trees grew thicker together and there was tall bracken growing between them. A real wild wood.

  “Are you sure it was this way?” I asked.

  “Pretty sure,” she said. “See, the ground is rising here and the gazebo was on a little hill so that you could look back and see the house through the trees.”

  We had just ventured into the wood when we heard a loud voice shouting, “Oi. Where do you think you are going?”

  Then we heard the sound of big boots crashing through undergrowth. We waited and one of the gardeners emerged, red-faced from having run. When he recognized us he looked uncomfortable.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. I thought it was trespassers.”

  “No, it is only my mother and I going for a stroll. We’re trying to locate the gazebo and the old chapel, Hoskins.”

  “I don’t think you want to go through there,” he said. “It could be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Are there wild animals?” I asked, grinning.

  “No, my lady, but it’s badly overgrown. We haven’t had a chance to work on it yet and there are traps.”

  “Traps?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “What are you trapping? Rabbits?”

  “No, man-traps, my lady. We’ve had poachers. There’s no gamekeeper these days and they think they can help themselves to the rabbits and pheasants.”

  “Man-traps? How utterly barbaric, and illegal too,” I said. “Who gave you instructions to put them out? Surely not Sir Hubert.”

  “I wouldn’t know, my lady. It’s just we were told when we got here that there were man-traps to dissuade poachers and we should be careful in this part of the grounds.”

  “And do you check regularly to make sure nobody has been caught in one of these traps?”

  He looked worried now. His eyes darted as if he was seeking an escape route. “No, my lady.”

  “And if some poor boy is lying there, bleeding to death?”

  “Oh no, my lady. We would hear someone yelling.”

  “Have them removed immediately,” I said. “And make sure you go over every inch of this part of the grounds to make sure they are perfectly safe. Old Ben will be joining you and he’ll make sure you are doing what I ask.”

  Now he looked quite scared.

  “Go and tell your fellow gardener and then get to work. And if there are rabbits and pheasants to be had, we’d quite enjoy them for dinner occasionally.”

  Mummy slipped her arm through mine as we retreated carefully through the bracken.

  I was still red-faced and fuming. Man-traps, indeed. I knew that village boys might well have dared each other to climb over the wall to an estate like this and steal fruit or even catch the odd rabbit. Still, I reassured myself that none of them had been reported missing or injured. I would surely have heard about it at the fete. But it was only a matter of time. . . . I wondered who had ordered those traps, and why.

  “At least my shoes have been saved from utter ruin,” Mummy said.

  “Your legs have been saved from being broken in a trap,” I snapped. “What a barbaric thing to do.”

  “It must be time for tea.” Mummy had perked up already. “Shall we have it on the lawn under the big tree?”

  “All right.”

  We made our way back to the house by the most direct route. This led us around behind the kitchen garden. Here we came upon the remains of the bonfire I had smelled earlier. It was now almost out, just a pile of smoking ashes. A few half-burned bits of wood lay around the edges and out of the pile of ash some straight sticks were jutting out. Not wood, but metal. Thin pieces of metal sticking up. We had walked past before I realized what they were: they were the spokes of an umbrella.

  Chapter 23

  MONDAY, JULY 1, AND TUESDAY, JULY 2

  Now I’m really worried. Should I tell that inspector?

  I was deep in thought all the way back to the house. I wanted to say something, to air my suspicions, but I knew it was no use talking to Mummy. She’d either not be interested or dismiss my worry as imagination. Besides, she had picked up the pace and was striding out ahead of me as we approached the steps, anticipating her tea.

  Chairs and table were carried out under the big beech tree and McShea carried out a tea tray. On it was a silver tea set, china cups and saucers and a plate of cucumber sandwiches. It was all remarkably civilized. The presentation was only slightly marred by Queenie tripping over the edge of a flower bed as she carried out a plate of shortbread. She and the shortbread went flying.

  “Whoops-a-daisy!” she said, attempting to get up. “Sorry about that, miss. My old dad used to say I’d fall over a crumb on the floor one of these days.” And she started to pick up the pieces of shortbread and replace them on the plate.

  “I don’t think we want to eat them now, Queenie,” my mother said in a disapproving voice. “They’ve been on the ground. They’ll have dirt on them.”

  “Only good dirt,” Queenie said. “Ain’t nothing wrong with garden soil.”

  I glanced at Mummy and grinned. “She’s probably right,” I said, “and you have a napkin to dust it off.”

  Mummy shook her head in despair but I noticed she did dust off pieces of shortbread and ate them with relish. After she had worked her way through most of the food on the plate she announced that she was quite exhausted after all that way I’d made her walk and was going to take a little nap. I continued to sit in the shade as the tea things were cleared away, alone now with my thoughts.

  Umbrellas break all the time, I knew. The wind blows them inside out. The fabric rips. And they have to be thrown away. So it was possible that the remains of this umbrella had nothing to do with the man who had come to the house. But I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind of him walking up the drive, red-faced from the heat, with an umbrella tucked incongruously under his arm. If only I’d been downstairs I would have met him and maybe I could have saved him from an awful fate. So the question was whether I should mention this to the inspector or not.