The Murder at Sissingham Hall (9 page)

She pulled me out of the room before I could protest and ran lightly ahead of me along to the study.

‘Bother! Why on earth has he locked the door?’ she said. She knocked and listened.

‘Darling, do leave those fusty old papers and come along to the drawing-room,’ she said loudly. She grimaced and shook her head at me as I approached. ‘Are you sure?’ she called. ‘Well, then, don’t stay up too late.’

She turned to me with a rueful look and we returned along the passage to the hall. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with him this week,’ she said. ‘It’s really too bad of him to desert his guests but I can’t do a thing with him when he is in this mood.’

We were met in the hall by Hugh MacMurray, who had just come in through a side door.

‘Hallo!’ said Rosamund. ‘We’ve just been trying to persuade Neville to come and join us but he refused, didn’t he, Charles?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed.

‘Old Neville being stubborn, what?’ said MacMurray. ‘That’s a shame. We shall all have to cheer him up. Brrr!’ he continued, with a shiver. ‘It’s jolly cold out there! I shall need a stiff drink to warm myself.’

‘Good gracious! Whatever possessed you to go outside at this time of the evening?’ said Rosamund.

‘Oh, I just wanted a breath of fresh air, you know. It was getting rather stuffy in the drawing-room,’ he replied. I thought he looked a little sheepish.

‘Any luck?’ asked Joan as we returned to the drawing-room.

‘None at all. He insists on remaining buried in his papers. Well, we shall just have to continue our fun without him.’

But it looked as though the lightening of mood had been only temporary. Nobody wanted to play another game of Consequences and Rosamund proposed cards in vain. Joan went out and came back with a book, while Simon Gale went off, murmuring about some work that he needed to finish and Bobs disappeared on mysterious business of his own.

‘I want some more music!’ said Gwen, a little too loudly. She had been drinking steadily all evening and was now swaying with great concentration over to the gramophone.

‘Must we?’ said Joan. ‘I’ve a splitting headache.’

‘What headache? You never mentioned it when we were playing the music before,’ said Gwen.

‘I didn’t have it before. It only came on a few minutes ago.’

‘How very convenient,’ said Gwen. There was a dangerous edge to her voice which sounded a warning note.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t believe you have a headache at all—you just want to spoil the evening for everybody.’

Joan flared up at once.

‘What rot! If anybody is spoiling the evening, it’s you.’

‘No it’s not!’

‘Yes it is! You always have to be the centre of attention. We were sitting here perfectly quietly but you had to disturb everything, just as you always do.’

‘Darlings,’ cried Rosamund, ‘now do behave nicely. I hate to see you fall out when things were going so well.’

Gwen paid no attention but drew herself up indignantly.

‘What do you mean, “just as I always do”? You beastly thing! Don’t think I don’t know your real opinion of me—I know you look down on us. You think we’re not good enough to come here, it’s perfectly obvious. You may think I don’t notice your sneers every time we come here but I do. I see you trying to influence Neville against us!’

‘I say old girl, look here,’ began Hugh MacMurray, shifting uncomfortably.

‘Be quiet, Hugh! I’m sick and tired of being insulted by these people. Don’t you see they think you have married beneath you? No, of course, you have never noticed it—why should you? You don’t have to put up with the whispers and the rumours and—and the people looking down their noses at you. If you were a real man you would defend me against them but you never do.’

Her husband emitted an unhappy bleating noise.

‘And you are a fine one to make judgments!’ Gwen continued to Joan. ‘I’ve seen you mooning about after Simon like a love-struck cow, don’t think I haven’t. But really,’ she burst into peals of laughter, ‘who on earth would look twice at a great lump like you?’

There was a startled silence, then Joan burst into tears and hurried out of the room. Gwen appeared to have exhausted her ire. She sat down suddenly.

‘I feel sick,’ she announced dolefully. ‘Boopsie, take me up to bed’.

Rosamund nodded to Hugh.

‘Yes, dear,’ he said and led her out of the room.

There was a general clearing of throats and somebody attempted to begin a conversation about the weather. Rosamund sat with her hand to her forehead for a moment and then heaved a great sigh.

‘What a difficult evening this is! I think I shall just give up trying to make it a success and suggest that you all go to bed immediately. Why won’t people behave as they are supposed to when I am trying to throw an elegant house party?’

‘It is getting late. Perhaps we shall all feel better tomorrow after a good night’s sleep,’ said Angela.

I glanced at my watch and discovered that it was nearly half-past eleven. I was in fact rather tired myself but felt it would look cowardly if I were the first to leave. Fortunately, Mr. Pomfrey expressed his intention to retire immediately and was soon followed by Rosamund and Angela. I excused myself shortly afterwards and headed to my room, where I got into bed and lay awake for some time, before falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

SEVEN

I was woken the next morning by the sound of running feet, followed by a general commotion that seemed to be coming from the direction of the stairs. Through a haze of sleep I peered at the clock and found that it was still early, turned over and attempted to drop off again. But the noise and bustle were insistent and seemed to be getting louder, so I reluctantly emerged from my comfortable bed, dressed and came downstairs. In the hall I found myself confronted by a scene of confusion. Half the servants seemed to be rushing about in varying degrees of uproar, while the old butler vainly tried to shoo them back to their quarters and a housemaid wailed loudly in the corner. I spotted Simon Gale and Mr. Pomfrey standing together in close consultation and joined them.

‘Hallo, what the devil is going on here?’ I asked.

‘Mr. Knox, I am sorry to have to tell you that Sir Neville has met with an accident,’ replied Mr. Pomfrey gravely. Simon Gale nodded. He was very white.

‘What do you mean, an accident?’ I demanded, looking from one to the other. ‘Surely you don’t mean he’s—’

Mr. Pomfrey bowed his head.

‘I am very much afraid that he is dead.’

I was bewildered.

‘But how? What happened?’

‘It—er—appears that he fell and hit his head on the mantelpiece some time last night. He was found this morning in his study.’

‘Fell and hit his head?’ I repeated stupidly. ‘That seems very odd. How on earth did he do that?’

Simon Gale spoke, reluctantly it seemed.

‘We are not quite certain of the exact sequence of events. All we know at present is that the housemaid who came down to clean the study this morning found the door locked. After a search, a spare key was eventually found by the butler and he and the housemaid entered the room to find Sir Neville lying by the fireplace, having apparently fallen. There was a glass lying on the floor next to him and a strong odour of whisky. Of course, there is no suggestion that he was at all inebriated,’ he continued hastily.

‘No, no, of course not,’ said Mr. Pomfrey. ‘But even taking a small amount may well have caused him to lose his balance more easily.’

‘Rosamund—what about Rosamund?’ I said suddenly. ‘Has she been told?’

‘Lady Strickland was informed shortly after the discovery was made,’ replied the solicitor. ‘She insisted on seeing Sir Neville alone. I did not think it right but she would not be dissuaded.’ He shook his head. ‘She is in the morning-room now with Miss Havelock and Mr. Buckley.’

‘The doctor is on his way and should arrive shortly,’ said Gale, ‘although there is nothing to be done, I fear.’ He swallowed. It looked rather as though he needed a strong whisky himself. ‘Lady Strickland wanted Sir Neville to be carried to his room but Mr. Pomfrey quite rightly said that he must not be moved until the doctor has examined him.’

‘Oh, quite so, quite so,’ said the solicitor. ‘The facts of the matter must be established, however distressing to the family. I have taken the precaution of locking the door again, in order to prevent curious servants from entering the room.’

He did not add: ‘And curious guests’ but the phrase hung in the air, unspoken.

The news had quite taken my breath away. I turned from the two men and entered the morning-room. Rosamund was seated on a low divan next to Joan, who was sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. Bobs was staring thoughtfully out of the window, with his hands in his pockets. Rosamund herself was white but quite composed. She looked up as I entered.

‘Oh Charles!’ she cried piteously. ‘Whatever shall I do?’

I went over to her and took her hand but could find no words.

Bobs turned and saw me.

‘Hallo, old thing,’ he said, without a trace of his usual jocular manner. He looked rather shaken. ‘Ghastly business, this, what?’

‘When will the doctor come?’ asked Rosamund. ‘I want him to come now. I can’t bear all this waiting.’

‘He is on his way and will be here soon,’ I said.

‘He must come quickly, he must. Where is everybody else?’

‘I’ve no idea. I assume they are all still asleep,’ I replied.

‘Perhaps that’s best for the moment,’ she said. ‘I can’t think what to do. What
does
one do in this situation?’ She pressed her hands to her temples. ‘I simply must
think
but my head is going round and round and I can’t.’

‘Hush,’ I said. ‘Don’t try to think for the moment. There’s no need, at least not until the doctor arrives.’

She gave an odd sort of smile.

‘Dear Charles! Always so beautifully uncomplicated.’ She looked about her in an agitated fashion. ‘Where is Angela? I want Angela. She will look after me. Please, somebody, fetch Angela.’

‘Here I am darling,’ said Mrs. Marchmont, entering the room at that moment. She came over to where Rosamund was sitting and kissed her. ‘I’ve just heard the news. My dear, I am so terribly sorry.’ She straightened up and looked around at us all. ‘The doctor has arrived and is now in the study.’

‘Oh!’ cried Rosamund, jumping up. ‘At last! I must see him now.’

Before we could dissuade her, she hurried out of the room, followed by her cousin.

Sylvia arrived, looking white and breathless.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded. Nobody replied but one look at our faces was enough to tell her the truth.

Joan, perhaps mindful of her duties, made a visible effort to pull herself together and stood up, red-eyed.

‘Well, there’s no use in our sitting here all day and we can’t be of any help now that the doctor and Mr. Pomfrey have taken charge. I think perhaps we should go in to breakfast,’ she said, ‘although I’m sure I shan’t be able to eat a bite.’

We all trooped through to the dining-room in a dazed fashion and made a sketchy breakfast, attended by Rogers, the old butler, whose mind was clearly elsewhere. Afterwards, we all gathered in a huddle in the drawing-room, talking in hushed voices. It seemed as though we were all waiting for something, although I hardly knew what.

In the late morning, the MacMurrays finally descended and burst in upon us in a great hurry, having evidently just been informed of the tragedy.

‘I say!’ said MacMurray. ‘What’s all this about Neville? Surely it can’t be true.’ He looked appalled.

‘I’m afraid it is,’ I said.

He swung round to stare at me.

‘Where did it happen?’ he demanded.

‘In his study. It must have been some time late last night.’

‘Are you sure? But that’s impossible!’ he said. He sat down suddenly and put his head in his hands. ‘Oh Lord,’ he said. ‘I need a drink.’ He looked ghastly.

Gwen, if possible, looked even worse, although I thought some of that must be attributed to the amount she had drunk the previous evening. Her face was all blotched and puffy and her eyes darted this way and that as though she did not know quite where she was.

‘What are we supposed to do now?’ she asked.

‘Wait here until the doctor has finished, I imagine,’ I replied.

The rest of the morning seemed to drag on interminably. I felt that I ought to leave, an intruder in a tragedy that was not my own and yet at the same time I did not wish to appear as though I were deserting the family in its time of need. No-one else seemed to have any intention of going but of course they were all close friends or relations of Sir Neville, whereas I was a comparative stranger. I therefore sat uncomfortably, waiting uselessly for some indication of what I should do.

It was not until we had all gone into lunch that Mr. Pomfrey returned, accompanied by Angela Marchmont. The solicitor looked round at the questioning eyes that were raised to his from the table.