Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Page 21

  “All right,” I said. “You’d better go and put on your stout shoes. It’s horribly overgrown in that part of the grounds.”

  It was a brisk morning with a strong wind from the west and we both were wearing jackets over our summer frocks. Mummy complained immediately that she should have tied up her hair in a scarf. “Now Claudette will have to spend hours getting my curls back into place,” she said.

  “There’s nobody to see except me,” I pointed out.

  As we came around to the back of the house I was pleased to see Old Ben striding out toward the kitchen garden.

  “Ben,” I called. “Welcome back.”

  He touched his cap to me. “Morning, my lady. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  I made sure we accompanied him until we located the two gardeners. They had been stacking crates of lettuce and looked guilty as they saw us approaching.

  “Are those heading for the village shop?” I asked. “You’ve made sure you’ve left enough for the house?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Bill muttered, shooting a swift glance at Ted.

  “And I’ve brought in an expert to supervise you,” I said. “Do you remember Ben? He’s worked in this garden all his life. Under his supervision we’ll soon have it looking splendid again. And he’ll be reporting directly to me.”

  I could tell this didn’t please them. “Oh, and about those traps.” I gave them a long, hard stare. “Ben says that Sir Hubert would never have used man-traps and would be horrified to know about them. So did you do as I asked and remove them all?”

  “We couldn’t find any after all, my lady,” Ted Hoskins said, looking down so that he didn’t meet my gaze. “It must have been a prank played on us by the last gardeners who were here.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it?” I said. “I would have worried that one of you would wind up losing a foot to his own trap.”

  They both managed a weak smile. My gaze went down to their feet. Both had on heavy boots, the sort that countrymen wear. And they didn’t look the sort to consider wearing suede shoes. So the mystery intruder remained a mystery.

  “Well, we’ll leave you to get started, then,” I said, giving them my brightest smile. “We are going for a walk around the grounds. My mother is anxious to see the gazebo she remembers.”

  “You want to watch out for them deer, missus,” Bill called after us. “They can be quite fierce if startled.”

  “I’m glad to know there still are deer in the grounds,” I said. “I always loved to see them when I was a child. But thank you. We shall be careful where we walk.”

  As we moved off I heard Ben’s voice, “Right, you two. First things first. Herbaceous borders. They’re a proper disgrace.”

  I wondered how long they’d stick with it here under his supervision. I steered our course deliberately toward where the bonfire had been. It was no use. A new pile of branches and garden waste had been dumped on the site, ready for burning. So on we went, into the wood, heading for the gazebo. This time we located it easily enough, but it was in such a sorry state that Mummy gave a little sob of despair. Ivy had enveloped the columns and great tendrils hung down from the roof as if ready to grab anyone who tried to enter. The marble floor was piled with layers of dead leaves and the steps leading up to it were cracked, with saplings shooting up between the stones.

  “My lovely gazebo,” Mummy said. “It would break Hubert’s heart to see it like this. We must get those gardeners working on it right away, Georgie.”

  “It’s really not a top priority,” I said. “We need the lawns mowed and the beds weeded first. It seems that they’ve put all their energy into the kitchen garden so that they could sell the produce.”

  “But that’s disgusting,” Mummy said. “I’d dismiss the pair of them.”

  “The problem is that I haven’t exactly been given authority to sack anybody,” I said. “Believe me, Plunkett would have gone by now if it were up to me. And Fernando. And Joanie, for that matter.”

  “They aren’t the best lot of servants I’ve ever seen,” Mummy agreed. “Nor the most willing. It comes to something when one is thrilled to have Queenie, doesn’t it?”

  That made me laugh and we giggled as we left the gazebo. “I tell you what,” I said. “When Granddad gets here we can tackle this as a family project. We’ll come here with clippers and rakes and we’ll have it back to its former glory in no time at all.”

  “Yes. That’s the ticket. It will give me something to do. Take my mind off what I have lost.” She looked pleased. “And what about that little chapel?” she said. “I wonder if that is similarly taken over by the forest? It was not too far from here.”

  “No, it was quite all right,” I said. “I found it yesterday, by accident.”

  “You came here yesterday? Before you knew whether they had removed the traps?” She shook her head. “Georgie, what were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that I didn’t really believe there were any traps in the grounds. I think we were told that because those gardeners didn’t want us to come here.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “I don’t know. Another of their little moneymaking schemes perhaps.”

  “So you went in the chapel?”

  “I did. It was in quite good condition. A little dusty but everything in place.”

  “And what about that awful crypt? What did you think of that?”

  “Crypt? I didn’t see a crypt.”

  “Didn’t you? Absolutely gruesome.”

  “I didn’t see any doors or stairs in the chapel.”

  “Oh, now I come to think of it, the entrance was round at the back. Hubert only took me there once. I found it quite alarming: all those Anstruthers stacked on top of each other around the walls.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Their coffins, darling. Vaults. All the Anstruthers buried there.”

  “I have to see this,” I said.

  “Well, I’m not coming down with you,” she said.

  “You can keep watch and let me know if anyone is coming,” I told her.

  We located the chapel quite easily and this time we went around to the back, where there was a small door in the wall, only about four feet high. It was made of solid oak with impressive wrought-iron decorative bars across it. I opened the latch to see a flight of steep steps descending into darkness. I had to agree with Mummy that it did not look inviting.

  “Don’t let the door close,” I said and started downward. The wall felt cold and damp to the touch. Luckily the staircase was not long. Eight steps and I was in a low underground area. Even in the gloom I could see what Mummy meant. All around the walls were vaults, one above the other, each with an inscription on it. HENRY WILLIAM ANSTRUTHER, 1745–1789. JULIA MARIA ANSTRUTHER, 1648–1720. And on the floor were what I presumed were more elaborate tombs: a sleeping knight; a black marble slab. It really was awfully creepy.

  I didn’t want to go any farther, but I had to make sure that there was nothing hidden behind one of the tombs. I was about to step down onto the floor when I noticed something. The floor was dusty and covered in remnants of old leaves that had blown in over the years. And one new leaf, still green although starting to curl up now. And near the steps was a footprint. A big boot had been here recently.

  Chapter 29

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 3

  EYNSLEIGH, SUSSEX

  Things are becoming rather frightening. Please hurry up and get here, Granddad!

  I tiptoed forward and peered over the black marble slab but saw nothing. But now my suspicions were truly roused. What better place to dispose of an unwanted body than in a place where many bodies were buried? I wondered if I could see whether one of the vaults had been recently opened, but it was too dark and frankly I wasn’t keen to try this on my own. The thought of reaching my hand into a recess and touching goodness knows what did not appeal! And it was no good asking my mother for moral support. She’d shied away from anything unpleasant her whole life. I’d just have to wait until Granddad got here and we could explore together. And if we found what I suspected we might, then we’d go straight to the police with proof.

  In the meantime, however, I had to face the thought that I was in a house with at least one murderer. If Mr. Broadbent was indeed entombed in this crypt, then it must have taken a couple of stout men to carry him this far. So if Lady Anstruther had accidentally killed him in one of her rampages, then she needed the assistance of other members of the household to hide the body—as that big boot print proved. I came out of the crypt again, shut the door behind me and gave Mummy my brightest smile.

  “I can see why you didn’t want to go down there. Horribly macabre!” And I shuddered.

  “Hubert didn’t think so at all,” she said. “He was awfully proud of having all his ancestors here in one place. He’s even selected his own vault already.”

  We walked away quickly, both wanting to get back to the safety of open lawns. I caught sight of both young gardeners working on a flower bed along the front drive. Ben was snipping away at one of the overgrown topiary hedges. His expert cutting had already returned it to the shape of a bird. He nodded to us as we went past.

  “Had a good walk then, my lady?” he asked me.

  “Very nice, thank you, Ben.”

  We passed on into the house.

  I then checked that a suitable room had been made ready for my grandfather: on the sunny side of the house and near enough to the bathroom. Then I opened all the windows wide to let in the fresh air. I remembered that this was the room I had come to on the first night when I had heard the scrunch of tires on gravel. And I had discovered that it contained nothing but bedframes with cloths draped over them, when I had been sure that it had been full of furniture. I stood, staring out of the window, thinking. So many things that didn’t make sense. Why had the furniture been moved out of the room in such a hurry and why make it seem that it was still full of stuff?

  The day seemed to drag by, with me pacing restlessly. What if Granddad decided he had to stay in town for a week to organize the funeral? Should I perhaps go to the inspector right now? But the worrying thought in my head whispered that if the police found nothing, then the servants would know that I suspected them. And if the body was hidden somewhere else, if there was something underhanded going on here, then I might just be the next to tumble down those stairs or to find the gas tap turned fully on while I slept.

  Queenie appeared just after six, asking if I wanted her to dress me for dinner.

  “It’s a casserole tonight,” she said. “And I’ve left Fernando to do the potatoes and veg. Even he can’t mess that up.”

  “Is he really that bad?” I asked as I pulled my cotton frock over my head.

  “Bleeding hopeless, if you ask me,” she said. “I don’t know where he’s cooked before, but he don’t half leave the kitchen in a right state.”

  “And what about the rest of them?”

  She pursed her lips. “I tell you one thing, miss. They wouldn’t last five minutes in a proper house like your brother’s. No respect for the butler. Sloppy dress. Her what’s supposed to be the maid, Joanie. She smokes in the kitchen. Did you ever hear anything like it?”

  This would have been priceless, coming from the world’s biggest disaster of a maid, if it hadn’t been so worrying. Who had hired these people? Surely Sir Hubert’s solicitor would have made sure that replacement servants were competent and trustworthy?

  Queenie finished doing up the buttons at the back of my dress, still chatting away. “That Joanie. She don’t half give herself airs too,” she said. “Told me she’s too good to be a servant and the only people who become maids are those not smart enough to get a proper job.” She looked up, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I asked her why she was a maid, then, and she said it wasn’t for long, trust her.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  Queenie finished dressing me without a hitch, except that the hairbrush got caught in my hair somehow, needing a long and painful session as she tried to pull it free.

  “Sorry, miss,” she said, red-faced from exertion. “I tried to make the pageboy go under nicely and it wouldn’t. I can’t seem to get it out now. Every time I pull it gets more tangled.” She tugged again. “Should I get some scissors and cut it out?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “I don’t want a big patch with no hair at the back.”

  “Then how about we leave it and put a bow over it for now?”

  “Oh, let me do it,” I said, reaching up to feel the back of my own head. “Queenie, you should go back to the kitchen, where you are less of a disaster.”

  “Sorry, miss,” she repeated with a hangdog expression. “I do try. I just ain’t very good at some things.”

  As she retreated to the kitchen and I finally extracted the brush from my hair, I realized I was glad she was still the same old Queenie, prone to mistakes. She probably did drop the chicken on the kitchen floor, where we couldn’t see it. But at least I felt comfortable with her. I wondered if I should keep her on as my maid when a better cook was hired or whether I should let her be assistant cook. Anyway, that was all far in the future. I had the present to get through first.

  I had just joined Mummy for sherry when Plunkett appeared.

  “There is a person asking for you, my lady,” he said.

  “A person? What sort of person?”

  “A rather lower-class sort of elderly male person, my lady. I sent him around to the servants’ entrance at the back. He wasn’t too pleased about this on account of carrying a rather large suitcase.”

  I leaped up while he was still speaking, pushed past him and rushed to the front door. It had started to rain and he was just disappearing around the corner of the house.

  “Granddad!” I yelled and tried to sprint after him. Unfortunately one of my satin evening shoes went into a particularly muddy puddle and got stuck there. I left it behind and ran on in a stockinged foot. “Granddad, wait!”

  He heard me, stopped and waited.

  “Come back, you silly old thing,” I said, opening my arms to him.

  “But that bloke said to go around to the back.”

  I reached him and picked up his suitcase. “And I say you come in through the front door. Come on. We’re getting wet.”

  “He obviously thought I was the new boot boy,” he said, chuckling now.

  “Why didn’t you tell him you were my grandfather?”

  “He never really gave me a chance,” he said. “He took one look and said, ‘Round the back. The servants’ entrance.’”

  “Bloody cheek!” I exclaimed, making him chuckle even more.

  “I never thought I’d hear a lady like you say those words,” he said.

  “This is the right time and place for them, don’t you think?”

  I had taken his arm and led him up the steps. Plunkett had just fished out an umbrella and was coming down the steps to meet us. “I’m sorry about that, my lady. I thought, you see . . .”

  “Plunkett, this is my grandfather,” I said.

  “Your grandfather?” His jaw dropped a little.

  “That’s right. And you are to treat him with the same respect you give to me and my mother, is that clear?”

  “Oh yes, my lady. Absolutely,” he said.

  We entered the front hall. Plunkett put away the umbrella. “May I help you with your coat, sir?” he said to my grandfather. “And, my lady, you are rather wet, I fear. May I suggest you go and change before you catch cold?”

  “I will,” I said. “Tell Cook there will be one more for dinner. And send someone to retrieve an evening shoe I left in a puddle.”

  Granddad’s coat was taken from him and I led him up the stairs to his bedroom. He looked at it with dismay. “Oh no, ducks,” he said.

  “You don’t like it?” I asked. “I chose it especially for you because it’s nice and sunny and not too fussy.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he said, looking around with a worried expression. “It’s a smashing room, all right. It’s just that I wouldn’t feel right here. It’s too good for someone like me.”

  “Rubbish!” I said. “You’re my grandfather and this is my house so I want you to have one of the best rooms.”

  “If you say so, my love,” he said.

  I took his hand and squeezed it. “I want you to be happy here,” I said. “And don’t take any nonsense from the servants—especially not from Plunkett.”

  “That podgy bloke? He’s the butler, is he?”

  “Yes, and I’m having a bit of trouble with him. But I won’t bore you with that tonight. Tomorrow we might take a stroll and I’ll tell you everything.”

  He looked at me. “You’re shivering,” he said. “Go and take that wet frock off.”

  “All right,” I said. “Don’t bother to unpack now. I’ll take you down for some sherry with Mummy.”

  He nodded. I left him staring out of the window. He was sitting on the bed looking like a lost boy on his first day at a new school when I came back for him, wearing my silk tea dress because I had only brought one long evening gown. I hoped Clotilde had remembered to send on my trunks and wasn’t waiting for me to ask for them.

  “Come on. Let’s go down,” I said.

  He looked around him in awe as we went down the staircase. “Nice place you got here,” he said. “Big, ain’t it? Are you going to enjoy living here?”

  “Eventually, when Darcy and I are married. Right now I’m glad you and Mummy are here. And you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

  I saw that Mummy had worked her way through most of the cheese straws as I led Granddad into the drawing room.

  “Sherry?” I asked him as he stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. “Or would you rather have a whiskey? I’m sure there must be some.”