Chapter 6 #3
“I wondered whether you might have seen Lady Laetitia Marsden in the past few days?” Tom asked. “She was supposed to meet Lord St George—the Duke of Sutherland—here in Town, but she hasn’t turned up. We thought perhaps she might have made a mistake and gone there instead.”
There was further quacking while Tom remained silent.
“No?” he said eventually. “You’re certain?”
The quacking was definitive this time.
“Thank you, Tidwell. I appreciate it.”
We heard him replace the earpiece, and then he came around the screen. “No sign of her.”
“The most logical explanation,” Christopher said, “is that she’s visiting a friend. If she’s not here, and not at Marsden House, she must have gone somewhere else.”
I nodded. “If there had been an accident, I think we would have heard about it by now. Or her parents would have done, and would surely have informed St George.”
There was a moment before Crispin asked, “You don’t suppose there’s a connection with the other disappearance, do you?”
“The other…? The novelist, do you mean?”
He nodded. “Laetitia would have passed through the area between Sunningdale and Godalming on her way to Town. The same area we explored today.”
There was a pause while we all considered that. Into it fell the measured footsteps of Rogers crossing the foyer. “Dinner is served, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Rogers.” Crispin got to his feet. “Lead the way.”
We followed along to the dining room, where we took seats across from one another in the middle of the table: Crispin and Tom on one side, Christopher and me on the other.
“You don’t want to sit at the head of the table?” I inquired of Crispin with a look at the extra-ornate throne-like chair sitting there, half a league away. “It’s yours by right.”
He shuddered. “I’d rather not, Darling, if you don’t mind.”
“And here I thought you were looking forward to being king of the hill.”
“Not so much,” Crispin said as he made himself comfortable on a chair across the table from me. “It’s an awful lot of work. I’ve spent the last two weeks getting a crash course in how the estate runs, and I assure you, there are things I’d rather be doing.”
No doubt. He had never, to my knowledge, expressed any interest in running the estates before. It had always been expected of him, of course, as the scion of the Sutherlands, but he had only ever seemed interested in glamour and gaiety, women, wine, and song.
“Interesting theory about Laetitia,” I told him, even as I calculated whether there was any way he could have had Laetitia’s body in the boot of the Hispano-Suiza, and have managed to pull her out and leave her in Surrey.
I couldn’t recall a single moment when we hadn’t been together today, but the suggestion would make sense as a precursor to her body being found in that area.
He shrugged. “I’m just grasping at straws, Darling. It’s more likely that she stopped off with a friend and just didn’t mention it, but she must have traveled through that area to get to London, so it seemed like it was worth mentioning.”
The first course arrived at the table, and we spent a couple of minutes eating.
“You know her better than any of the rest of us,” I said. “Who would you guess she stopped off with?
He pondered for a moment. “There’s Beckwith Place, I suppose. Constance is her cousin.”
She was. But Constance doesn’t like Laetitia any better than I do, and I don’t think Laetitia is particularly fond of Constance either.
Nor did it seem likely that she would impose herself on Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert without an invitation.
But I suppose it wasn’t impossible. “We can ring up and ask. At least that’s something easy we can do. ”
“There’s the crew from the engagement party,” Crispin continued. “Violet, Olivia, Bilge and Serena. Cecily’s dead, of course, and so is Dom, but there’s the Honorable Reggie Fish.”
“I got the impression that he was sweet on Olivia Barnsley,” I said, “or vice versa, but I’m sure you’d know better than me. Was there ever anything between him and Laetitia?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Crispin said. “Nothing serious. How’s a mere Hon. to compete with the Duke of Sutherland, after all?”
Too true. If Laetitia had ever trifled with the Hon. Reggie, she would have dropped him like a hot potato when she landed Crispin.
Still— “It can’t hurt to ask. Anyone else?”
“I believe her closest friends were present at the celebration,” Crispin said. “There’s Geoffrey, of course—”
Lady Laetitia’s brother, Lord Geoffrey Marsden. I had no idea why he would want to do away with his sister, but yes, it wouldn’t do to forget Geoffrey.
“If he did something to her, it would have happened before she ever left Marsden Manor, I suppose. If they’d left together, I’m sure Lady Euphemia would have mentioned it.”
Crispin nodded. “He would have had to deal with her motorcar, in that case. She couldn’t have gone to London without it.”
No, she couldn’t have done. “For all we know,” I said, “it was Geoffrey who told his mother that Laetitia had gone to London. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he could be involved.”
Crispin shook his head. “I suppose, if she doesn’t turn up soon, someone will have to ask.”
I supposed so. “There isn’t anyone else left who was at the engagement party with us. Christopher and I were there together, of course, and Tom showed up the next day. Constance and Francis were there, and Wolfgang—”
“I don’t think Laetitia ever exchanged more than a few words with Wolfie,” Crispin said.
“They danced together that first night—he’s very decorative, you know; or he was, at any rate—but no, I didn’t think so either. And besides, he’s most likely dead. Or in Germany. One or the other.”
Crispin nodded. “I suppose we start with Violet and Olivia.”
“If she hasn’t turned up by tomorrow morning, it’s as good a place as any,” I agreed.