“Daisy was only trying to help,” said Becket angrily and Harry looked at his manservant in surprise.
“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked. “Confront Miss Bryce-Cuddlestone? She will deny it. She has too much to lose. And Hedley will most certainly deny it.”
“Perhaps you should tell Kerridge of our suspicions. He might get the doctor to talk.”
“Shhh!” said Daisy suddenly. “I think I heard something.”
She ran lightly across the room and threw open the door. She could hear footsteps hurrying off in the distance at the back of the hall. Daisy ran in pursuit and found her way blocked by Curzon. “Is anything the matter?” he asked.
“Get out of my way!” shouted Daisy.
Curzon took her arm in a strong grip. “It is time you and I had a word, Miss Levine. You do not shout at a superior servant in that manner. You –”
“Daisy!” called Rose, hurrying across the hall. “Is anything the matter?”
“I’ll speak to you later,” hissed Curzon.
“It’s all right, my lady,” said Daisy. They walked back to the library. “Someone was listening,” said Daisy. “I heard these footsteps running away and went after whoever it was, but that great idiot Curzon blocked my way.”
Harry looked at Rose. “Is there a constable outside your room at night?”
“Yes. Well, there was last night.”
Harry turned to Daisy. “Make sure he’s on duty tonight.”
¦
Rose was mounting the staircase with Daisy when Curzon came hurriedly up after her.
“Lady Hedley wishes a word with you, Lady Rose. Follow me. Alone,” he added with a glare at Daisy.
Feeling nervous, Rose walked after him, wondering if Lady Hedley had been the one listening at the library door, and then dismissed the idea as ridiculous.
Curzon threw open the door and announced her and then left them together. Lady Hedley was seated before the fireplace in her sitting-room, working at a piece of tapestry.
“Sit down,” she ordered. “No, not there. Opposite. Where I can see you.”
Rose did as she was bid. There was a long silence while Lady Hedley’s needle flashed in and out of the piece of tapestry mounted on a frame.
Then she began. “We have not really had an opportunity to talk.”
“I am most grateful to you for your hospitality,” said Rose.
The needle paused. “No you’re not,” said the countess. “How could you be? What do you think of this castle?”
“Very fine.”
“Why?”
“Well, very romantic, like casdes in stories of knights and ladies.”
“Piffle. I assumed you had some intelligence.”
“You do not expect me to say what I really think,” said Rose, becoming angry.
“It would be pleasant if you would try to do so.”
Rose took a deep breath. Why should she care what Lady Hedley thought?
“All right. It is silly, a folly, and set as it is against the poverty of the local village, a disgrace.”
“Still banging on about that village, hey? It may please you to know that Hedley has set about repairs.”
“Yes, it does please me.”
“He’s only doing it because the gutter press have criticized the living conditions.”
There was another long silence. Rose felt herself becoming almost hypnotized by the flashing needle.
“What did you think of Mary Gore-Desmond?”
“Nothing at all. I barely knew her.”
“I saw too much of her. Did you know I brought her out?”
“No, my lady. At the last season?”
“Yes, for part of it. Her mother fell ill towards the end but was still hoping her plain daughter should make a match with someone, anyone. So we took her on. Nasty little thing.”
“My lady, she’s dead!”
“That doesn’t soften any memories I may have of her. But the real reason I asked you here was to find if you had recovered from your shock.”
“I hope so, my lady but to tell the truth, I am afraid the experience will haunt me for some time.”
“I used to play up there when I was a child when we were brought here on visits. The place was fairly new then. As children, we thought it romantic.”
“I was not playing. Someone asked to meet me on the roof and then pushed me over.”
The marchioness laughed. “We used to invent stories like that. It does take me back.”
The dressing gong sounded.
“Run along,” said Lady Hedley. “And behave yourself.”
¦
Rose repeated the conversation to Daisy. “She sounds mad,” said Daisy.
“No, I think she is eccentric. It must be so terrible to have a philandering husband.”
“That’s mostly what this lot do to pass the time,” said Daisy cynically. “But we should tell the captain about Mary Gore-Desmond having stayed with them in London.”
But Rose was not to be allowed any chance of speaking to Harry after dinner. Her mother drew her aside in the drawing-room and said, “It has come to our ears that you have been seen spending a certain amount of time with Captain Cathcart. Now although your pa is grateful to him for his help and although his family background is impeccable, he does not have any money other than the money he earns. So he is, in effect, a tradesman.”
“I have no interest in Captain Cathcart.”
“I will determine it stays that way.”
When the men joined them in the drawing-room, Lady Polly stayed firmly by her daughter’s side.
She need not have bothered. There was no sign of the captain.
He was in the library with Becket and Daisy, having had a note from Daisy passed to him by Becket.
She told him all about Rose’s interview with Lady Hedley.
“It’s beginning to look as if Hedley himself might be responsible for these murders, and that is going to be very hard to prove,” said Harry. “But Lady Rose is surely safe. There will be a constable on duty outside her door tonight.”
¦
Curzon had supervised the sandwiches and drinks to be taken up to the drawing-room. Now all that was left was to see that the various bedtime requests were taken up to the rooms.
Mrs. Jerry Trumpington required a bedtime drink of hot milk and brandy; Miss Maisie Chatterton, cocoa; and so on. He ran his eyes down the list in his hand. At the bottom was tea, Indian, with milk and sugar for Constable Bickerstaff.
“Who is Constable Bickerstaff?” he shouted.
“That must be the officer outside Lady Rose’s bedroom,” said the cook.
“I think it’s a bit much when common officers start using this place as a restaurant,” grumbled Curzon.
He said to the second footman, John. “Get one of the housemaids to make a pot of tea and you carry it up. And take Mrs. Trumpington’s drink and deliver Miss Chatterton’s cocoa as well.”
John collected the three drinks on a large tray and headed for the stairs. There was a back staircase in the castle for the servants, but most used the main staircase unless they were carrying down the slops. He delivered Maisie Chatterton’s cocoa first and then hurried along to the other tower, where Lady Rose and Maisie Chatterton had their rooms.
He thought sulkily, and not for the first time, that the gas should have remained lit. It was difficult balancing the tray and a candle. He put the tray down on a small table in the passage outside Mrs. Trumpington’s room, put the glass of milk and brandy on a smaller tray and knocked at the door. He handed the tray to the lady’s maid and then turned and picked up the tray with the remaining drink from the table. He was heading up the tower stairs when he heard a voice call, “John!”
