Edwardian Murder Mystery 02; Hasty Death

“You told the servants not to interrupt us,” his wife reminded him.

A look of cunning came into the earl’s usually guileless eyes. “Wait in the drawing-room, Cathcart.”

When the door closed behind Harry, the earl said, “We needn’t bother. Let the man make his proposal. Rose isn’t going to accept him.”

The worry cleared from Lady Polly’s face.

“Of course. I’ll go and get Rose.”

¦

Rose was waiting in her sitting-room. She was dressed in a blue organdie gown with a little white spot. Blue kid shoes were on her feet and blue ribbons were threaded in her thick hair.

“You look very fine!” exclaimed her mother. “Were we due to go out anywhere?”

“No, Mama.”

“You’re to go down to the drawing-room. Captain Cathcart wishes to propose marriage to you.” She gave a chuckle. “Hurry along then. You’ve got ten minutes to deal with him.”

Rose entered the drawing-room and a footman closed the double doors behind her.

The couple studied each other for a moment, each reflecting how fine the other one looked.

Harry walked forward and took Rose by the hand. Then he sank down on one knee. “Lady Rose,” he said huskily, “would you do me the very great honour of giving me your hand in marriage?”

“There’s no need to play-act,” said Rose.

“Who knows when they’ll walk in on us?”

“All right. Yes, I do.”

Harry stood up and fished in his pocket and drew out a little box. He opened it to reveal a sapphire-and- diamond ring.

“Oh, how beautiful,” said Rose, as he slid it on her finger. “You should not have gone to so much trouble.”

¦

“He gone yet?” asked the earl.

Lady Polly looked down from the window. “His motor car is still there with his manservant at the wheel.”

“I think we’d better see what’s going on.” The earl sighed and put down his freshly ironed paper with reluctance.

“They’re coming,” said Harry, cocking his head to one side. He drew Rose into his arms.

“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?” demanded Rose, blushing.

“No, just lean your head on my manly chest.”

The doors opened and the earl and countess stood stricken at the tableau in front of them.

“Congratulate me,” said Harry. “I am the happiest of men.”

There was nothing that Rose’s parents could do now but give their blessing.

When Harry had gone, the countess rounded on her daughter. “Not a word out of you. You have thrown yourself away. Come, dear, I need a cup of tea.”

The earl went back to the morning-room and picked up his precious newspaper only to find it had fallen in the marmalade dish. “You,” he said to a footman, “take this away and clean it and iron it again!”

¦

Dr McWhirter’s corpse – or what was left of it – was eventually discovered by a gamekeeper. Foxes and other predators had done their busy work and left the rest to the maggots. The bullet had dropped down through the exposed skeleton and fallen to the ground. When two policemen came to remove the remains, one large regulation boot ground the bullet down into the forest floor. From the rags still clinging to the skeleton, they assumed it to be the remains of some tramp.

The remains were buried in a pauper’s grave. Foul play was not suspected.

¦

Superintendent Kerridge read of Harry’s engagement in the Times. He was happy for both of them and assumed they would settle down to a conventional married life. He doubted if he would ever see them again and felt a tinge of sadness. He had felt comfortable in their company because he sensed the three of them in their way did not really fit in anywhere and that had forged a bond between them. He had received news that Peregrine Stockton was back in the country. It crossed his mind that he ought to warn Lady Rose and then decided against it. After all, the man had had an unfortunate mother and there were no charges against him.

¦

Miss Ailsa Bridge ferreted through her belongings, some of which were still in boxes, and found a crystal butter dish which she considered would do very well for an engagement present. Then she took another sip of gin.

¦

Lady Polly had thawed somewhat towards the engagement. Harry had helped so many people in society that she found her daughter was regarded as fortunate. So it was with a lighter heart that she set out one sunny day to attend at garden party at Mrs Barrington-Bruce’s home in Kensington accompanied by Rose and Daisy. Harry had promised to be there.

Luncheon was served at tables in the garden. Rose was not seated next to Harry, a good hostess having assumed that engaged couples saw enough of each other.

She had a guards’ officer on one side and an elderly gentleman on the other, neither of whom seemed to wish to make conversation.

Harry was in conversation with a very pretty lady of mature years. The tops of her swelling white bosoms rose above a gown of midnight-blue moire. She was wearing a dashing little hat tipped over her glossy blonde curls. Harry was laughing at something she was saying. Rose reflected sourly that she had never seen Harry look so relaxed or happy before.

The guardsman next to her – what was his name again? She peered at the place card in front of him. Ah, Major Devery, that was it.

The major was crunching an ortolan, bones and all. She waited impatiently until he had finished and said, “Who is that lady next to Captain Cathcart?”

“Eh, beg your pardon?”

One monocled eye swivelled in Rose’s direction.

She repeated the question. The major stared down the table and then let out a guffaw. “That’s Mrs Winston. We call her the Merry Widow. Great flirt.”

A little black knot of jealousy tightened in Rose’s stomach. Harry was her fiance. He had no right to be so flagrantly enjoying the attentions of that blowsy creature whose hair was probably dyed.

The bit of the table she was seated at was in full sunlight. Her hat of fine straw did little to protect her head from the heat of the sun’s rays. She suffered until the end of the luncheon and then with a muttered excuse got to her feet. Rose escaped to a shady part of the garden and sat down in an arbour. There was a slight breeze and the arbour was cool. She decided to sit for a few more minutes before rejoining the party.

Then she became aware of someone standing in front of her. She looked up.

Peregrine Stockton stood glaring down at her.

“Why, Mr Stockton,” said Rose. “I was just about to go back to the party. It was so very hot at luncheon.”

“It was all your fault,” said Peregrine passionately. “My poor mother would never have killed anyone had she not been blackmailed, and no one would have found out except for you and your nasty prying ways. You’re like all these cold little virgins. A good roll in the hay is what you need.”

He smelt strongly of drink.

Rose got up and tried to go round him but he seized her and began to drag her towards some thick shrubbery. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand was clamped over her mouth.

¦

“Such a drama about Mrs Stockton,” Mrs Winston was saying as she walked with Harry from the lunch table.

“I’m only glad it’s over,” said Harry, looking around for Rose. “I believe her son left the country.”