Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Read online

  “I’m not much of a drinker, love,” he said. “A little swig of sherry would go down a treat, I suppose. We only ever had sherry and port in the house at Christmas.”

  I poured him a glass. He perched nervously at the edge of the sofa beside Mummy.

  “How are the funeral arrangements progressing?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Her family has taken over everything. Her daughter wants her buried with the late Mr. Huggins. I didn’t think she’d like that, seeing as how she told me what a rotten husband he was, but it seems they bought a double plot and the daughter’s not about to waste it. Well, it leaves me out, don’t it? I told them I’d come back for the funeral on Saturday.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  “No need for that.”

  “You won’t want to go alone.” I patted his hand.

  “You’re a good girl.” He gave me a beaming smile.

  We were summoned to dinner, which was a good, if humble, steak and kidney pie. Granddad nodded with approval. “Good cook you’ve got here.”

  “This is Queenie’s work, I expect.”

  “Queenie? You mean Hettie’s great-niece? The one what burned down her family’s kitchen?”

  “The very same. She has turned into quite a good cook. Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Her family will never believe it when I tell them. They couldn’t wait to be rid of her.”

  I realized as we were speaking that I hadn’t told Queenie about her great-aunt’s death. I always forgot that she was related to Mrs. Huggins, which was how I’d acquired her in the first place. “She’ll want to come to the funeral on Saturday too, I expect. Maybe we should all drive up in the motorcar,” I said.

  I sent for her after dinner. She came into the drawing room, drying her hands on her apron. “Is something wrong, miss?” she asked. “Was the pie not good enough?”

  “The food was perfect, thank you, Queenie. But as you can see, my grandfather has come to stay with us because your great-aunt Hettie has unfortunately died.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that when Plunkett told us that your grandfather was coming to stay.” She grinned. “He obviously thought it would be some grand old duke or something. He said we all had to be on our best behavior.”

  “What a shock, eh?” Granddad grinned. “And he finds out it’s only me.”

  “Not only you!” I said. “You are just as important as any duke. They had still all better be on their best behavior.” I turned back to Queenie. “So, Queenie, I expect you’ll want to attend the funeral with us on Saturday. We’ll drive up in the motorcar.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I’d better come,” she said. Obviously not too keen to see her family again.

  “You can tell them you are a cook in a big house now,” I said.

  She brightened up. “I can. How about that, eh? And you’ll be there to tell them I’m not fibbing either. And I ain’t burned down no kitchens.”

  I silently added the word “yet.”

  Chapter 30

  THURSDAY, JULY 4

  EYNSLEIGH, SUSSEX

  I feel so much better, knowing that Granddad is here. After all those years’ experience in the police force he’ll know if something is really wrong here or I’m imagining things.

  I was up early the next morning and relieved to see it had stopped raining. A mist hung over the parkland and seemed to somehow magnify the birdsong. A cuckoo rang out loud and clear, above the cacophony of wood pigeons, thrushes, blackbirds. On other occasions I would have enjoyed just standing there at the window, admiring the view, but today I was too tense. I wanted to show Granddad that crypt as soon as possible. I wanted to put things right.

  As I came out of my bedroom my grandfather poked his head around his door.

  “Oh, you’re up, ducks,” he said. “I was wondering when anything got going around here.”

  “Not normally as early as this,” I said. “Are you already washed and dressed?”

  “That’s right. I’ve always been an early riser.”

  “Then let’s go down and get a cup of tea.”

  “That would go down a treat,” he said.

  “You know, you can always ring the bell in your room if you want something,” I said. “One of the servants will come. You can ask them to bring you up a cup of tea.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I’m not used to your way of life, ducks. Always done everything for myself.”

  I rang the kitchen bell and eventually Fernando appeared. There was no sign of Queenie yet and I suspected she slept in late. I ordered tea and it came, looking like dishwater. My grandfather sniffed at it. “What’s this stuff, then?”

  “It’s the way Fernando makes tea. I’ll have Queenie make you a proper pot later.”

  “What was this Sir Hubert bloke doing hiring a Spanish cook in the first place?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew. All the staff seem to be brand-new, so it’s quite possible that Plunkett hired him. Maybe Plunkett has a taste for Spanish food, or maybe the old lady does.”

  “Old lady?”

  I told him about Sir Hubert’s mother. His face brightened up. “Maybe she’d like a visit from an old geezer like me. We could chat about old times.”

  “She doesn’t chat. She throws things and has birds that fly around and land on your head.” When he looked puzzled, I laughed. “She’s quite dotty, Granddad.”

  “Oh, I see. Blimey. I don’t envy you living here with a bunch of strange servants and a barmy old lady.”

  “I don’t envy me either,” I said. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you.” I looked around. The house still seemed quiet, but I knew how well servants managed to overhear most things that went on. “Shall we go for a walk?” I asked. “I’ll show you the grounds and introduce you to Old Ben if he’s here today. You two would get along famously.”

  We put on jackets, as the wind was quite brisk. Rooks rose cawing from a big yew tree as we passed behind the house. There was no sign of the two gardeners.

  “Nice grounds. Like a ruddy Kew Gardens,” Granddad commented.

  “They really are lovely and I’m going to get them back to the way they were. I’ve already got the fountain up and running again. But the lawns need mowing and the beds need tidying up.”

  “Growing some good-looking beans, I see. And marrows? Nice little kitchen garden.”

  “That’s the only part of the garden that is flourishing,” I said. “The gardeners have been growing extra produce and selling it.”

  “Go on! Is that normally done?”

  “Not as far as I know. Sir Hubert told them they could sell any excess, so I suppose they had the right. But I’ve now made the village shop send the proceeds straight to the household account. And I’m going to be checking the books weekly. Plunkett has been dipping into the funds, I’m sure.”

  “A rum ruddy lot you’ve got here,” he said.

  “I know. And frankly I’m worried.” And I told him everything that had happened since I arrived. Now he looked worried too. “Someone turned the gas tap on? I don’t reckon that was no accident, love. And this finance bloke? Why would anyone have killed him?”

  “I thought that maybe Lady Anstruther killed him by accident. If she threw something heavy and it hit him on the head perhaps?”

  “And the staff were willing to cover up for her? That’s loyalty for you, knowing they could all go to prison as accessories to murder.”

  “I know. It doesn’t quite make sense.” We had reached the edge of the lawns and the wild part of the estate stretched ahead of us. “That’s why I wanted you to come with me and see this.” I led him down a narrow path into the woods. We didn’t speak until the chapel appeared in a clearing ahead of us.

  “Well, blow me down,” Granddad said. “It’s a ruddy little church.”

  “Yes, it’s the family chapel. They were Catholics and had to hold their services in secret in the old days when being a Catholic got you burned at the stake.”

  I opened the door and let him peek inside; then I led him around to the back. “Mummy told me about the crypt under the chapel where all the family members are buried,” I said. “And someone had been there recently. There was a footprint of a big boot in the dust on the floor. And a leaf. So I wondered if one of the vaults had been opened and a body hidden inside. What better place to hide someone?”

  “Blimey,” he said. “Didn’t you think of going to the police with this? Rather have them poke around in old vaults.”

  “I did think of it,” I said. “But what if I was wrong? What if nobody was hidden here, but they’d buried the body somewhere else? Then they would know that I suspected and something might happen to me. I might be pushed down a flight of stairs like Rogers.”

  “I think maybe we should all go back to London for the time being,” he said. “Wait until your Darcy gets here. He’ll sort things out.”

  That was the last thing he should have said. Wait for the damsel to be rescued by the handsome prince? Darcy had had to rescue me from difficult situations before and I was very grateful to him. But I wanted to start this marriage as an equal partner, not as a helpless female needing to be protected.

  “I want to see it through,” I said. “The moment I have any proof of wrongdoing I’ll go to the police, I promise.”

  We stood outside the door to the crypt and I took a deep breath before I turned the knob to open it. “There’s no light down here,” I said. “We should have brought a torch. That was silly of me.”

  “We can prop the door open,” he said and picked up a stone that was lying nearby.

  “Careful on these steps,” I said. “They are quite steep.”

  We went down, holding on to the wall. At the bottom step I halted. “Look, see the footprint?”

  “That could have been there for ages,” he said. “It’s pretty much sealed off down here, isn’t it? Like a walk-in tomb.”

  I shivered. “It’s awfully cold. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  We went around the walls, examining each of the vaults, seeing nothing strange or suspicious. Then Granddad stopped by one of the marble tombs on the floor. “Hello, hello,” he said. “Look here.”

  My heart was beating so loudly I thought I could hear it echoing from the vaulted roof. “What?”

  “See this. It’s been moved recently. Look at the floor. And there’s no dust on the marble.”

  It was a white marble sarcophagus against the far wall, smaller than some of the other tombs, its top carved with a sleeping lady in medieval costume. Granddad and I looked at each other.

  “We wouldn’t be strong enough to lift the top off, would we? It’s solid marble.”

  “No, but we might slide it sideways, just enough to see.”

  I swallowed hard. I wanted to see, but I didn’t. “All right. Let’s give it a try.”

  We pushed with all our might. Finally we felt it give an inch or two.

  “Hold on,” Granddad said. “I’ll go up and get a bit of wood.” He went up the stairs with impressive agility for one of his age and returned with a fallen tree branch. He stuck the thinnest part into the narrow gap and then pulled down, using it as a lever. As the marble moved we both recoiled at the horrid smell.

  “Oh goodness.” I covered my nose with my hand.

  “It’s not too bad,” he said. “Recently dead bodies smell much worse. I’d say this one had been in here for some time.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. We both moved closer. I was expecting to see a bald head, a black suit. Instead the first thing I glimpsed was long white hair. This time it really was hair, not animal fur. And it surrounded a face . . . a face with the flesh shrunken back but not yet gone. Mouth open in a grimace showing yellowed teeth. And below the face a white nightgown.

  “It’s an old woman,” Granddad said.

  I peered down at her, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. “How long do you think she’s been dead?” I asked.

  “A few months, maybe? Not that long.”

  “Golly,” was all I could find to say.

  “Who do you reckon it is?” he asked.

  “I’ve no idea. An Anstruther relative, I suppose. But if Sir Hubert was away, who would have arranged for her burial here? Another Anstruther relative, maybe? And were people buried in a nightgown?”

  I broke off as I heard a movement outside the door. In the next instant the door had slammed shut, plunging us into total darkness.

  Chapter 31

  THURSDAY, JULY 4

  At least I know I was right to sense that something suspicious is going on at Eynsleigh. But maybe I should have gone to the police immediately with my suspicions. Now we’re in a bit of a pickle.

  For a second I was too terrified to move. Then I stumbled forward, feeling my way over the cold marble of the tombs until I reached the wall. I moved along the vaults until eventually I located the stairs and went up them. I ran my hands over the smooth wood of the door. There was no latch that one could open on the inside. We were trapped.

  “We can’t get out, Granddad,” I said. The seal around the door was almost perfect. It didn’t seem to let in a single chink of light.

  “Hold on, love. I’m coming.” I heard him mutter as he bumped into things on the way to me; then I heard the exertion in his breath as he felt his way up the steps.

  “Move over. Let’s have a look,” he said, reaching out beside me to touch the door.

  “You can’t look, that’s just the point!” I heard my voice quiver. “There’s absolutely no light.”

  “You’re right,” he said after a while. “I can’t feel any kind of latch. Why would you need one? The dead don’t want to get out.”

  “Someone will come looking for us,” I said. “When we don’t turn up Mummy will wonder where we’ve got to.”

  “Your mother is so wrapped up in herself that she probably won’t notice we’re gone for hours,” he commented.

  “But she will eventually,” I said.

  “I’m just wondering how long we can hold out,” Granddad said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean how much air we’ve got.”

  “Oh crikey, Granddad. That door does fit snugly. Do you think it’s possible that we’ll run out of air?”

  “Don’t worry. We’re bound to be all right,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Like you said, your mum will wonder where we are.”

  Horrid thoughts were going through my head. Whoever was behind this—whether it was the gardeners or Plunkett or whoever—might be wily enough to say that we had gone up to London. And Mummy might just believe them. And she wouldn’t worry about us until we hadn’t returned this evening.

  I sank to the top step and sat hugging my knees. Granddad eased himself down just below me. “So what do you make of it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to make of it,” I said. “I brought you here because I thought they might have hidden Mr. Broadbent’s body in here. But I never expected to find an old lady. You say she’s been dead for months, but not years?” As I said it, I was conscious of the horrid smell that surrounded us.

  “Oh no. Not that long.”

  “Even in a place that’s airtight and dry like this?”

  “I really don’t think so.”

  “Then the only old lady we know about is Sir Hubert’s mother. And she is supposedly alive and living in the west wing. But what if she did escape from the retirement home and came back here and was murdered and someone has taken her place?”

  “Why?”

  I thought about this. “Money? She collects an allowance, maybe? She has investments that the imposter is selling?” I touched his shoulder. “Yes, that must be it. Maybe they weren’t expecting Mr. Broadbent to come in person and they realized he’d know that the imposter wasn’t the real Lady Anstruther so they had to kill him.”

  “Could be,” he agreed.

  Another long pause; then I said, “So if Lady Anstruther is in this coffin, then who is impersonating her in the house?”

  “We need to go to the police the moment we get out of here,” Granddad said.

  “Yes.” I didn’t change his words to say what I was thinking. If we get out of here

  We sat in silence. In spite of wearing a jacket I felt horribly cold. I eased myself down a step and snuggled up against my grandfather. He put an arm around me. “It will be all right, my love. Don’t worry.”

  After a while I said, “Those hinges on the door are really old. Do you think we could kick the door open?”

  “Can’t hurt to try,” he said. “It’s just we don’t have much room here to move. We don’t want to fall off the stairs.”

  “I’ll try. You support me,” I said.

  He held on to me and I kicked with all my might. I shoved at the door with my shoulder as I have seen policemen do in films. It hurt my shoulder horribly and the door didn’t budge. I tried kicking again.

  “Should we shout, do you think?” Granddad asked.

  “It wouldn’t do any good. We’re miles from anywhere. And the only people who could hear are the gardeners and we have to think it was one of them who closed the door. Unless—” I broke off, sensing a small glimmer of hope. “Unless Ben is working today. He’s the old gardener I told to come a couple of times a week. But he was here yesterday so I don’t think . . . But maybe he came anyway. Okay, let’s bang and yell.”

  We did. Our voices echoed alarmingly in that vaulted chamber. The silence seemed more stifling after we stopped. I could almost sense that the dead were angry we had disturbed their peace.

  “It’s no use,” I said. We sank back onto the steps again. I rested my head on Granddad’s shoulder. Mummy will come eventually, I told myself. Even she will start to get worried if we’ve been gone long enough. She’ll remember I said yesterday that I wanted to show Granddad the crypt. But then I had to admit that Mummy was not an early riser. What if she decided to stay in bed all morning? How long did we have before we couldn’t breathe? Of course the moment I had that thought it seemed as if breathing was already harder. I thought about Granddad and his compromised lungs.