Chapter 8 #2
With Inspector Crummle’s inimical glare upon her, Daisy had been only too glad to remove herself from the library.
Her business with Alec was unfinished, however.
She hadn’t had time to pass on her information and opinions about most of the people at Haverhill.
She had a nagging feeling there was something both important and urgent she ought to have said, but she couldn’t think what, nor even about whom.
The hall was empty, no group waiting for her with anxious questions.
She wasn’t surprised. At lunch the taciturn gloom had been thick enough to cut with a knife: the shock and horror of what had happened had sunk in at last. Except for the Haverhills, Lord and Lady Fotheringay, and Sally, everyone had turned up, including the Devenishes and three newcomers who had just arrived by car.
The latter were anxious to leave again as soon as possible; in fact, several others had turned around at the station and gone straight home when Lord Haverhill’s chauffeur told them what had happened.
The rest were resigned to staying. No one seemed to realize the police couldn’t actually stop them leaving if they insisted, and Daisy hadn’t enlightened them.
On leaving Alec and Crummle in the library, she decided to go up to the family apartments to enquire after Lord Fotheringay’s health.
By now she had talked to everyone since the murder, at least briefly, except Lady Haverhill and Maud and Aubrey Fotheringay.
Not that she suspected any of the three, but they might know something useful.
Lady Eva could have confided in her sister-in-law, for instance, about trouble with a member of her family.
Interrupted by Crummle, Alec had failed to issue his usual prohibition against asking direct questions, but Daisy virtuously resolved not to.
On the other hand, he had practically ordered her to drop hints about not knowing what was in Lady Eva’s memoranda.
If she worded her hints right, they ought to elicit any information available.
When she knocked at the sitting-room door, Lady Fotheringay opened it. “Oh, it’s you, Daisy. We thought it might be your husband. Sir Leonard announced his arrival.”
“He’ll be up to make his bow shortly, but he felt he had to smooth the local man’s ruffled feathers first. I just popped up to ask after your husband. Lucy said you were concerned about the effect of the shock on his health.”
Lady Haverhill’s voice came from within the room. “Ask Mrs. Fletcher to come in, Maud. My son has insisted on taking refuge with his plants, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“I’m glad he’s well enough.”
“He ought to be in bed,” said Lady Fotheringay. “Such a terrible shock!”
“I’m afraid the shock has hit my husband harder than was immediately apparent, Mrs. Fletcher. Nicholas has not been quite himself for a month or more, as is, I dare say, to be expected at our age. He is lying down at present, but of course he will get up to … to welcome your husband.”
“Alec wouldn’t dream of disturbing him. He’ll have to speak to him sometime, but I’m sure it can wait until he’s rested,” Daisy rashly pledged. “Do you know how Mr. Montagu is getting on? I had the impression he was close to Lady Eva.”
“Montagu encouraged Eva in that wretched gossip business,” Lady Haverhill said astringently.
Or had she blackmailed him into passing on rumours heard at his club? Daisy wondered.
“He’s taken to his bed,” Lady Fotheringay informed her.
“They were as close as any brother and sister I know, so it’s quite understandable.
What I cannot understand is why Sally should do likewise.
She scarcely knew Aunt Eva. What on earth persuaded my son to marry a girl with such delicate nerves?
Not at all suitable for a soldier’s wife! ”
“Sally is in such a state, Nicholas felt obliged to send Rupert’s commanding officer a cable asking that he be released from his manoeuvres.”
“I don’t think it’s at all surprising that she’s upset,” said Daisy, with a glow of conscious virtue earned by sticking up for a person she disliked. “The very idea of murder is so abhorrent that being involved in a case, however peripherally, is enough to make some people ill.”
“I suppose Mr. Fletcher is quite convinced that it’s m-murder?”
“Of course he is, Maud, or he’d not have rushed down from London three days earlier than intended. I should say, my dear, that Nicholas is very grateful that your husband is willing to head the investigation.”
Daisy didn’t say that Alec was not at all willing and had only come because he’d been ordered to.
She wanted to steer the conversation back to Lady Eva’s gossip collection.
“There’s the London connection,” she said, “which makes it possible for Scotland Yard to get involved. One of Alec’s men is at Lady Eva’s house now, going through her files. ”
Both ladies flinched, appalled. Daisy had overestimated their sang froid. In the face of the murder of a relative by marriage they managed stiff upper lips, but the prospect of the public washing of the family’s dirty linen made them quail.
Clearly they had not considered the ramifications of the crime. Had the murderer? Could he or she possibly have failed to realize that Lady Eva’s demise would cause the police to read her memoranda?
“Don’t worry, the police will treat the information as confidential.” Unless it was needed as evidence. “Alec won’t even tell me.”
“Do you think she was killed because of something she found out?” faltered Lady Fotheringay, braving her mama-in-law’s frown.
“The police must no doubt consider the possibility,” Lady Haverhill conceded, “since Eva was so ill-advised as to make a hobby of enquiring into other people’s private business, and so unwise as to make no secret of it.
” She changed the subject. “Mrs. Fletcher, Lucinda appears indifferent to the postponement of her wedding. I confess myself baffled by the flippant manner you modern young women consider de rigueur, so I cannot make out whether she is simply putting on a brave face for our sakes. Can you tell me, is she dreadfully upset?”
Daisy hesitated. For a start, she didn’t feel she had a secure grasp on Lucy’s state of mind—and she wasn’t at all sure that Lucy herself did. Secondly, telling Lucy’s aunt and grandmother that she had decided
to call the whole thing off would only distress them at a time when there was more than enough grief to go around. And in the third place, if they didn’t know about Lucy’s bequest from Lady Eva, it was not for Daisy to tell them.
“The reason for the postponement is far more upsetting than the postponement can possibly be,” she said guardedly.
“I feel I must take you into my—our—confidence. By the time a decent period of mourning has passed, in today’s terms, which I know are very different from those of my young days, I rather doubt that Nicholas will be up to entertaining on the scale presently arranged.”
“Gosh, is he really ill?”
“A degenerative disease which the doctor expects to progress quite rapidly.” The countess’s voice caught on the last word, but after passing her hand across her eyes, she continued with her habitual composure, “Only the immediate family has been told. I need not ask you, I’m sure, to keep it to yourself. ”
Daisy’s mind raced. It sounded as if Lady Fotheringay would at last become Countess of Haverhill in the not too far distant future. Whether she had the force of character to stop playing second fiddle to her mother-in-law was another question.
In any case, Lady Eva’s death had not contributed to the change in her prospects, so there was no reason for Daisy to mention the earl’s illness to Alec. “Of course, Lady Haverhill, I shan’t breathe a word.”
“But if you can gently hint to Lucinda the possibility that she may have to … to make do with a somewhat less lavish celebration …”
“Lucy won’t mind, I’m sure. I don’t want to make her sound ungrateful, but it’s all been rather a trial to her.”
“I rather suspected this grand affair was more Victoria’s notion than Lucinda’s, though, of course, one must make some sort of show for Lord and Lady Tiverton.”
For a moment, Daisy couldn’t think who Lord and Lady Tiverton
were—oh yes, Binkie’s parents, the Marquis and Marchioness. Irrelevant as they were to the present situation, she had forgotten them.
She wasn’t getting very far with the present situation.
What she really wanted was an excuse to talk to the Devenishes, especially Edward.
Just why did young Teddy, Lady Eva’s residual legatee, who had been “consorting with a divorcée,” turn up unexpectedly at more or less the time the victim was meeting her end?
Even if Daisy braved Alec’s displeasure to ask Teddy outright, he wasn’t likely to give her a straight answer. But whatever his reason, he must have given his sister some explanation, true or false, and Daisy was on excellent terms with Angela.