Chapter Six
I was awakened by urgent knocking on my bedroom door. I was trying to find the words to say something in response – it would have been something unforgivably rude had I managed – when the door burst open.
‘Flo? Are you all right?’
It was Lady Hardcastle.
Full consciousness still eluded me but I was at least able to reply. ‘Of course I’m all right, you ninny. What’s the matter with you?’
‘It’s five to six. You were supposed to be at my door ten minutes ago in your best frock.’
I struggled to vertical. ‘I just dozed off, that’s all. We don’t have to arrive on time – you always complain about people who arrive for cocktails on time.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose I do. But you always fetch me on time and then I shilly-shally so as not to be too early. I was worried about you. You never oversleep – you claim to be the queen of the half-hour nap.’
‘I just had a little bit more of a snooze than usual. It must be the sea air.’
She began rummaging in my wardrobe. ‘This rose one will look lovely. Do you have shoes to go with it?’
I sighed and stood. ‘At the bottom of the wardrobe there. I’m just going for a quick wash.’ I walked towards the door.
‘There’s no time for that. You have to hurry and get yourself changed.’
‘I’m going for a quick wash, and we’ll be no more than a quarter of an hour late. Keep your drawers on. And even if it takes me longer than that, we’ll certainly be in plenty of time for dinner at seven.’
She harrumphed but relented.
Refreshed and re-dressed, we arrived in the library on the ground floor at twenty past six and almost everyone was already there, with Edgar Everett the only absentee. Conversational groups had coalesced, but Robert Sidwell-Plant stood alone and he beckoned us over.
‘Good evening, ladies. I was beginning to worry that you might not be joining us.’
‘Worry?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘How lovely to be missed.’
He laughed. ‘You’re both delightful company, of course, but you’d have been missed even if you turned out to be absolute stodgers.
JB collects friends and acquaintances with the same enthusiasm he exhibits for his .
. . exhibits.’ He smiled to himself. ‘But he tends to classify us into groups just as he does with his physical collection, and keeps us all separate. It’s a rare treat to meet someone from one of the other classifications. ’
‘And how does he classify you?’ I asked.
‘We’re the “business” group. The boring ones.’
‘Certainly not boring,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But I always get my professions muddled – Bridgewater is the solicitor and you’re the accountant, yes?’
‘For my sins.’
She smiled again. ‘I should have thought it must be very exciting at the moment with all the work you’re doing to set up the hotel.’
He laughed. ‘I suppose “exciting” is one word for it. I’d steer more towards “stressful” if anyone were to ask me.’
‘Stressful?’ I said. ‘You must have worked on dozens of deals like this. How is this one different?’
Sidwell-Plant paused for the slightest moment before answering. ‘Obviously, as his accountant, I can’t betray any trust, but let’s just say there’s an awful lot riding on it. It has to work perfectly.’
‘Oh?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Why’s that?’
‘It’s not my place to say more, I’m afraid.’
She smiled again. ‘Fair dos. Let’s get back to safer topics, then. We were talking about JB’s classifications, weren’t we? What about Clarice? Why is she part of this set? Surely she should be in the “artists and musicians” group.’
He laughed again. ‘True, true. But she studied at the Royal Academy of Music with my nephew, so she’s part of our group by default – a friend of the family, as it were.
To be honest, I strongly suspect she gets roped in to a lot of groups.
No point in knowing a world-renowned violinist and then not showing her off at every opportunity. ’
‘What does your nephew play?’ I asked.
‘Cello and piano, but he’s a conductor now.’
‘How wonderful,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I should love to learn to conduct.’
His eyes widened in apparent delight. ‘You’re another musician?’
‘I dabble. Piano.’
‘But you’re not part of the musicians group?’
Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘Good heavens, no. Although JB did meet us at the Albert Hall.’
If he noticed this inelegant swerve in the conversation he didn’t show it. ‘That’s it. Gran Bridgewater and I have been friends for years and he was doing some work for JB just about the time JB needed an English accountant. Gran recommended me and . . . well, here I am.’
‘It must be nice to be able to work with your friend,’ I said.
He glanced over to where Bridgewater was telling another of his interminably lengthy jokes. ‘I suppose so, yes.’
So much for my clumsy fishing attempt. I’d noticed one or two instances of frostiness between the two men and wanted to know more.
It was a bit much to hope he’d suddenly tell all to a new acquaintance, but I thought it might be worth a try.
Time for my own inelegant swerve to get us away from this potentially dodgy ground.
‘Has there been any sign of Everett since this afternoon?’
‘Since his bullying attack on Clarice, you mean?’ He looked over towards where Clarice was talking to JB.
‘You heard about that?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘My wife told me. He treats that lovely woman abominably. One day someone will settle his hash. I might have done it myself if I’d been there.’
‘It’s not a new thing, then?’ I said.
‘He’s been like it for as long as we’ve known them.
’ He paused for a moment in thought. ‘I always assumed he resented playing second fiddle to one of the world’s greatest fiddlers, but perhaps he’s just a blackguard.
No one likes him, but we put up with him so we can see more of Clarice.
Actually, that’s not quite true,’ he added, bitterly.
‘My darling wife seems to be somewhat taken with him. At least I thought so. She seems to have her eye on young George Wilson this weekend, too.’
Everett and Patience? I thought. That wasn’t the impression I’d got earlier, but I didn’t know her well enough to be able to comment.
It was Sidwell-Plant’s turn for an inelegant swerve. ‘You two were looking for my wife’s missing whatnot, weren’t you? Any luck?’
‘Her diamond brooch,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No luck so far, I’m afraid.’
‘Brooch, that was it. She has so much blasted jewellery I can’t keep up. Costs me a fortune. I mean, really, an absolute fortune. It would be much appreciated if you could track it down. You’ve really no idea what’s happened to it?’
‘We began with the working assumption that both the brooch and Dotty’s necklace had been dropped somewhere and, perhaps, accidentally moved. Kicked along the floor, caught up in someone’s clothing, that sort of thing.’
He smiled. ‘Do you really think that’s likely? Sounds more than a little far-fetched to me. One item, perhaps, but both?’
‘Well, quite. Obviously it’s more likely that someone took them both deliberately.
But who? And why? I’d love to believe that it’s some sort of merry jape.
We gather there’s rivalry over who wears the most extravagant jewels.
Perhaps the thief decided that it took enough of the group’s attention during these soirees and wanted to teach them both a lesson?
The joker would deprive them of their game and then reveal their whereabouts at what he considers to be the funniest moment.
Comedy’s all in the timing, you see. The alternative is that someone among us is a thief and I really prefer the merry-jape hypothesis. ’
‘An expensive bloody jape. Mind you, I can think of one person who’d imagine it was hilarious.’ He glanced again at his old pal Bridgewater.
‘Is it the sort of thing he’d do?’ I said.
‘Schoolboy pranks are his speciality. Although . . .’
‘Yes?’ prompted Lady Hardcastle.
‘No, nothing. It’s probably a joke, as you say. I can’t imagine anyone actually stealing them.’
Bridgewater’s story finally ended. His small audience groaned at the corny punch line and this seemed to delight him more than any laughter could have.
JB beckoned us over. ‘Come over here, you three. We need someone to save us from Gran’s terrible gags. He wouldn’t dare try it in the presence of a professional.’
Bridgewater looked at us questioningly.
We said nothing.
‘Florence here was born in a circus,’ said JB when he realized we didn’t understand what he meant. ‘Her father was a professional knife thrower. She knows a clown when she sees one.’
‘Circus, eh?’ said Bridgewater. ‘Have you heard the one about . . .’
I had, but I let him continue. To be fair, he was quite the gifted raconteur and I could think of worse ways to pass the time before dinner. The large gin and tonic JB pressed into my hand helped, too.
By the time the dinner gong sounded and we gathered ourselves together to troop upstairs to the dining room, Everett was still absent.
‘Have you any idea where he might be?’ said Dotty to Clarice as we sat down.
‘None whatsoever,’ said Clarice. ‘I’m trying to work out if it would be possible for me to care less, but it’s a struggle.’
‘When did you last see him?’
I couldn’t recall whether I’d heard Clarice laugh before, but it was warm and joyful when it came. ‘Pause a while and contemplate what you just asked me.’
Dotty dutifully paused. ‘When did you last—’ Realization dawned. ‘Oh, my dear Clarice. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.’
Clarice, though, was still amused. ‘Please don’t worry, Dotty dear – I was just teasing you. It’s a perfectly commonplace phrase and you should never feel you have to police your language around me. But I haven’t “seen” Edgar since he stomped off after lunch.’
‘Since . . .’
‘Since then, yes. Did you hear that?’
‘I heard about it.’
‘Oh lord. So everyone knows? How humiliating.’
‘Everyone’s on your side, dear. Even the gentlemen.’
Clarice sighed. ‘That’s all I need – more sympathy.’
She was unable to see Dotty’s crestfallen expression.