Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [53]
“They’re in Marienbad,” wailed Frederica.
“Then send them a wire. There’s been something odd about this horrible place from the beginning. No proper protocol observed. All of us changed around at meals. Bad form. Auntie’s from Virginia. She won’t stand for any of that nonsense.”
Despite her shock and distress, Rose found herself mildly amused that an aunt from the home of democracy should be such a stickler for protocol.
With her usual forthrightness, Deborah said, “There’s a murderer amongst us. Which one of us do you think it is?”
Daisy stepped forward. “Ladies, you must remember Lady Rose has had a frightening experience. I think she should rest now.”
Murmuring apologies, they headed for the door. But Margaret had the last word. “If you had left well alone, none of this would have ever happened.”
“What a bitch!” exclaimed Daisy when the door had closed behind them.
“Daisy!”
“Well, what a thing to say. My money’s on her. Just think! If you had hit the castle walls on your road down, you’d be as dead as Colette.”
“I would rather not think about that. Run along and see what else you can find out.”
“I’m not leaving you! You said not to.”
“Now that nothing can be hushed up, I am sure no one will dare to try anything. Oh, the door again. Get rid of whoever it is.”
Daisy opened the door. “It’s Lady Hedley.”
“Let her come in,” said Rose wearily.
The little marchioness came up to the bed and peered anxiously at Rose. “How are you, my dear?”
“I think I am going to be all right.”
“Such a silly thing to do! Playing about the roof of the castle.”
“I was not playing. I was lured up there by some murderer.”
The marchioness shook her head. “The trouble with you young gels is that you will read cheap romances.”
“But it happened!”
“Now, you don’t really know what you are saying. There is no reason for you to burden the police with silly stories. That awful Kerridge person is on his way.”
“I will tell him exactly what happened,” said Rose firmly.
“This house party was a mistake,” said Lady Hedley, half to herself. “But he thought it would be amusing.”
“Lady Hedley,” ventured Rose, “could you not possibly prevail on your husband to do something for his villagers? Their living conditions are dreadful.”
The marchioness looked at Rose as if she had just dropped in from another planet. “God puts us in our appointed stations, my dear. God put the villagers there. I heard you were intelligent. You appear very silly.”
And with that parting remark, Lady Hedley left the room.
Rose’s next visitors were Maisie Chatterton and Lady Sarah Trenton. Lady Sarah said she was very sensitive and had felt a frisson about the time that Rose was falling off the roof.
“Lord Hedley is saying that it is nothing but a theries of accidents. You were playing on the woof and fell off, Colette twipped and fell in, and Mary took too much arthenic,” lisped Maisie.
“Are the police here?”
Yes,” said Sarah, “asking questions and questions.”
“I thought they would have been to interview me,” said Rose.
“That local inspector from Creinton, he wanted to,” said Sarah, “but Hedley told him you weren’t fit.”
“I am not a child!” said Rose. “What is all this nonsense about me playing on the roof?”
“Well, you do do such odd things,” said Maisie. “Some of us think you are thweet on Captain Cathcart and you fell in so that he could wescue you.”
“What balderdash! Please leave me. My head is beginning to ache.”
When they had gone, Rose said, “No more visitors, Daisy, unless it is the police.”
Superintendent Kerridge arrived from London that evening and asked to see Harry after he had endured Lord Hedley’s tales of how innocent eveiything was.
This time, the detective superintendent had commandeered the marquess’s study.
Kerridge had received a report from Posh Cyril about Harry’s skill in solving the problems of the aristocracy.
“Sit down, Mr. Fix-It,” he said grimly. “Begin at the beginning and go on to the end.”
Harry talked steadily for half an hour, leaving nothing out. When he had finished, Kerridge said, “So