Chapter Ten
TEN
“I must speak to you, Daisy!” Felicity begged.
“Of course. I’d better go and see where Belinda and Derek have got to. Come with me.”
“It’s all right,” said Miles. “They came in a few minutes ago. Flick sent them to clean up for tea. I’ll go and make sure that’s what they’re doing.
” He started to leave, then hesitated and looked back at his sister.
But apparently he decided whatever he’d been going to say was likely to do more harm than good.
He shrugged and went on, closing the door behind him.
“Do you have to tell Mr. Fletcher what Jemima said?” Felicity asked.
“It would be much better if you told him yourself,” Daisy temporized. “He’s bound to find out one way or another, from Miles…”
“Oh, Miles might disapprove, but he wouldn’t tell. It’s not as if … my friend had anything to do with Calloway’s death. We hadn’t planned to meet on Christmas Eve, and he’s not the sort to come mooning around when I’m not going to be there. He had something else on anyway.”
“Alec’s much more likely to believe you if you’ve told him yourself, before Jemima lets the cat out of the bag again.”
“I suppose so,” said Felicity disconsolately. “What a little horror she is!”
“If she found out, there’s a fair chance someone else has, too.”
“What a frightful bore everything is, don’t you think?”
“No, actually. On the whole I find life pretty interesting. Maybe you should get a job.”
“No fear! That would be even more boring. I’m going to get married.” Felicity sighed. “Which will probably turn out to be the biggest bore of all. Daisy, Mr. Fletcher won’t tell the parents, will he? I’d rather keep it quiet as long as possible.”
“Someone they will disapprove of?” An unsuitable young man madly in love might expect even more opposition if his beloved’s father suddenly became a legitimate, acknowledged relative of the earl. Motive enough for murder? “Mother was furious when I got engaged to a policeman.”
“Not exactly like that.” Felicity gave her a twisted, sardonic smile. “Call it family complications. We’re a complicated family. Here’s Gran. It must be tea-time.”
Bel, Derek, and Miles came in right behind Mrs. Norville.
Daisy was kept occupied for some time listening to the children’s chatter of the afternoon’s adventures.
Tremayne, Dora Norville, and Jemima came in together.
Except for Belinda and Derek, everyone was subdued, speaking in low murmurs.
Looking up once or twice, Daisy caught Dora Norville’s eye, which sent her a desperate appeal.
When Lady Dalrymple entered a few minutes later, Daisy sent the children to talk to her and went over to join Dora.
“Jemima, go and see if your father will join us for tea.”
“Why?” the girl whined. “He hardly ever does.”
“Because it’s Christmas Day and we have guests,” her mother said sharply. “He said he was going to the Drawing Room to write letters. Off you go.”
Jemima slouched out. Dora turned to Daisy. “Mrs. Fletcher, I must talk to you.”
“Be careful what you say,” Tremayne warned.
“Oh, Papa, what can I possibly say that will make things worse? I’m not going to confess because I have nothing to confess to.”
“All the same, my dear, be careful.” Excusing himself, the old lawyer went to speak to Miles.
“Mrs. Fletcher, is your husband going to investigate this terrible business?”
“Yes, he’s been put in charge of the case. I’m afraid it puts us in a rather awkward position as your guests.”
“Not at all, not at all. You’re Westmoor’s guests, but in any case, I’d rather have Mr. Fletcher asking questions than the local people. So humiliating! At least, I suppose we must all be under suspicion?”
“I believe so. But a new suspect has recently come to light who may change everything.”
Her face brightened; a rabbit offered a carrot. “I’m sure it can’t possibly have anything to do with the family. We all had the best of reasons for preserving the Reverend Calloway in good health. I suppose it will all have to come out now.”
“Alec will want to know your reasons, of course, though I rather think we have a pretty good idea already. He’ll be as discreet as is humanly possible.”
“I’m sure he will. Quite the gentleman. One would never have guessed … But I’d better tell you the whole story to make sure you have it right. You see, when I was a girl, the earl—the seventh earl, the present earl’s father—used to bring house-parties to Brockdene in the summer and at Christmas.”
“So I gather,” murmured Daisy, with an amused glance at the Dowager Viscountess.
“It was always the best society, of course. I wouldn’t have dreamt of being invited to take part.
But when Lord Westmoor wasn’t here, we used to come up to play badminton and for picnics and so on.
The vicar’s children, and the squire’s, the doctor’s, and my sister and I, we were all of an age with the Norville boys.
” Her voice sank to a near whisper. “We knew Mrs. Norville was a … a foreigner, of course, but that’s all.
Our parents certainly had no idea she wasn’t married! ”
“But she was, wasn’t she?”
Dora Norville flushed. “Yes, of course. She always told Godfrey and Victor so, and Godfrey told Papa so when he asked for my hand. But he had to explain the … the uncertainty, so that I wouldn’t expect to be included in Lord Westmoor’s company when he came down.
Mrs. Norville and Godfrey and Victor were expected to keep to themselves at those times. So unfair!” she burst out aggrievedly.
“Rather hard lines,” Daisy agreed. “When did Westmoor stop bringing parties here?”
“When the old earl died, the present earl stopped coming so often. Just occasionally, really. The War finally put the cap on it. He hasn’t shown his face here since ’14.
And then Victor turns up with the Reverend Calloway, who could swear to my mother-in-law’s marriage!
Lord Westmoor would have had to accept us as part of his family.
Why should any of us want Mr. Calloway dead? ”
“A good question,” said Daisy, but one which was not presently destined to be investigated, as Mrs. Pardon came in with the tea and Dora had to pour.
Having walked to Calstock and back since midday dinner, Daisy was quite ready for Christmas cake and mincepies.
Both were excellent. The former had a good thick layer of almond paste between the royal icing and the rich, dark cake.
The mincepies were made with flaky pastry and thickly dusted with icing sugar.
The latter, however, were not what she would have chosen to serve to children in company.
Derek and Belinda both managed to get crumbs all over their clothes (and probably the floor, but Daisy didn’t examine it) and icing sugar all over their faces.
“It just happens,” Belinda explained, “when you breathe.”
“Go and wash your faces—and hands.”
“Again?” Derek protested. They both sighed heavily and departed.
Daisy was glad they had gone when Alec came in a few minutes later with Captain Norville. However hard they tried, they couldn’t have kept the knowledge of the murder from the children.
“The doctor came up the river from Saltash and took the body away for autopsy,” the captain announced heavily, “though he’s pretty certain the blade nicked a lung and the poor man drowned in his own blood.”
“Really, Captain!” Lady Dalrymple objected, outraged. But he didn’t hear, and she didn’t leave.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he went on, going to old Mrs. Norville and enveloping one tiny brown hand in his great paws. “It’s all over. I did my best.”
She laid her other hand against his cheek as he bent over her. “It doesn’t matter, Victor love,” she said gently. “I know, and the Lord knows, that the Reverend Calloway married me to your father.”
“Married!” exclaimed Lady Dalrymple. “That presumptuous parson was here to testify to your marriage? Then Captain Norville is Westmoor’s heir presumptive?”
“No, no, my lady, not I. Lord Westmoor’s son, young Lord Norville…”
The dowager interrupted, stating flatly, “George Norville was killed in the Great War.”
In the electrified silence, Daisy glanced around at the faces of the family. Victor Norville was astonished, no doubt about it. Whatever his motive for bringing Calloway to Brockdene, the expectation of succeeding to an earldom had not been part of it.
Mr. Tremayne had known of George Norville’s death, Daisy thought.
He had not told his daughter, and now looked anxiously at her to see the effect of the news.
Dora Norville was surprised, doubtful, perhaps confused.
She was trying to work out just what it meant to her family.
In a minute or two, she would realize that nothing was going to change, because of Calloway’s untimely demise.
The clergyman’s testimony could have made her a countess. Victor was childless, unmarried. By the orderly rules of aristocratic inheritance, his brother would have been his heir presumptive.
Godfrey had come in just in time to hear Lady Dalrymple’s revelation.
He stood in the doorway, behind but slightly to one side of Alec, so that Daisy could see his face.
He was shocked, appalled even. Daisy was surprised by the strength of his reaction.
She wouldn’t have expected a man of his studious habits to put so much stock in a title.
Of course there would be a certain amount of wealth to go with the title, even in these days of death duties and income tax, and a love of history did not preclude a man from coveting wealth.
Miles would have been his father’s heir, almost certain to become earl in the course of time.
Daisy missed his immediate reaction to her mother’s announcement, but when she looked at him, she had the impression that it was no surprise to him.
He had been in the army, and the identical surnames would have ensured that someone brought George Norville’s death to his attention.