Walking Into Murder (7 page)

It was all so different from her neighborhood, Laura mused, where no one seemed to have time to grow flowers, and even when they did, their gardens didn’t flourish as they did here. Houses weren’t spread across the countryside as in American suburbs either, but were clustered in villages where people could walk to the butcher, the baker, the vegetable stand and the news agent.

Wishing nostalgically that she could too, Laura strolled on to the marketplace, the oldest structure in the village. It had a thickly thatched roof but no sides. Looking down, she saw that the stones under her feet were pitted and hollowed by the hard boots of generations of farmers and villagers. It seemed to her that she could feel the pulsation of all those lives coursing up to meet her. Not all of them were happy lives, either, she reflected, spotting the old wooden stocks where miscreants had their heads and arms thrust through holes and clamped there. The villagers came to gape or throw rotten produce at their helpless victims.

Fanning out in all directions from the town center were the sheep alleys. Long ago wool merchants had driven their sheep from the surrounding fields through these alleys into the marketplace. Laura ducked into one of them and was immediately enclosed in a tunnel where sunlight never penetrated. The walls on each side rose far above her head, and the alley was so narrow that when a woman came the other way Laura had to squeeze flat against the cold stones to let her pass. Narrowness was the point, she supposed. The sheep had no choice but to head for the other end and whatever fate awaited them.

Time for a coffee break, she decided, and eyed the shops clustered around the square in search of a bakery. Some windows featured fine antiques or gifts; others offered tourist trinkets or more prosaic fare, like the great hunks of meat hanging on hooks in the butcher’s window and the rows of beautiful fresh vegetables on the greengrocer stand. There was also an ironmonger’s, which turned out to be a hardware store. Remembering her need of the night before, Laura bought a flashlight.

The window next door was filled with mouth-watering pastries and cakes, and the interior looked dim and cozy. Perfect, Laura decided. She regarded her mud-covered boots with disfavor. They weren’t fit to go in anywhere, so she took them off and left them just outside the door.

A bell tinkled faintly as she opened the door, and a beaming face appeared from behind a curtain. “Take any table you like,” the woman said. “I’ve just opened, and you’re my first customer.”

“Thank you,” Laura sank down gratefully into a creaky chair. “I’ve been walking and it’s good to sit.”

“What can I bring you?” The woman smiled again. “I’ve just made some scones, if that tempts, and there’s clotted cream and jam.”

Laura could smell them and was definitely tempted. “I would love some!”

“I’ll get them right away. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, I think,” Laura answered. The woman, whose name was Maude according to the pin on her apron, bustled away and soon returned with a pot of coffee and two of the biggest scones Laura had even seen.

‘These look delicious,” Laura told her, lathering them with clotted cream and jam, and pouring a steaming cup of coffee.

“On your own, then, are you?” Maude asked comfortably. “Must be peaceful, I should think.”

Laura laughed. Yesterday had hardly been that. “Most of the trip has been,” she answered, “but I got lost yesterday and that wasn’t peaceful at all.”

Maude looked alarmed. “Dreadful, I’m sure,” she clucked. “But where were you going, to get lost like that?”

“To Torrington Manor. It’s a bed and breakfast place.”

“No wonder then,” Maude said, shaking her head with a knowing look. “It’s a hard place to find, down those twisty roads and then that long drive.

“I’ve heard it’s very grand at the manor,” she went on. “My girl Daisy used to clean there, but that was when the old Baron was alive.”

“The old Baron?”

“Died a few years ago. They had to find the next Baron then, and it took them a while, I can tell you! No sons. All killed in the war, only distant relations left.” Maude shook her head again. “Isn’t the same, is it, when they haven’t lived here all their lives? Mind you, though, the new Baron isn’t bad. He’s restored the manor and the old church, though if you ask me, it was the Baroness who got him to do it. Still, he loves his horses and that’s good.”

She stopped. “Here I am, talking away, and you wanting to get on with your scones and all. My Anthony says I talk too much and he’s right.”

“Oh, but I’m very interested,” Laura answered quickly. “The manor seems like such a fascinating place.”

“That it is,” Maude agreed obligingly. “The family has lived there for hundreds of years, and there’s been some interesting stories. Fellow who came here once wrote a book about all the nobility that visited, the rebellions they got involved in and all that. They even built a secret passage back then, the book says.”

Laura was intrigued. If she ever got back to the manor, she would look for it.

For the moment, however, she was eager to get back to the present family. “How long has this Lord Torrington lived there?”

“Not quite sure,” Maude answered, thinking hard. Her brow cleared. “It was when my Daisy’s first was born, that’s right,” she declared. “Almost six years ago now, it was. Time for another, I’d say, but she won’t hear of it. It’s different these days, isn’t it? Sad, if you ask me. Clothes and such is all they care about.”

“Yes,” Laura agreed, searching for another way to get back to the manor. “Lord Torrington’s wife certainly has beautiful clothes,” she remarked casually.

Maude sniffed. “If she is his wife. Common tart if you ask me. Beautiful clothes, but that’s about it. Ought to keep them on, that’s what I think! You should hear all the rumors. There’s that groom, at least that’s what they call him, for one thing. Too big for his boots and doesn’t know a fig about horses. Comes to town and gives orders like he’s a lord himself, and never passes the time of day at the King’s Arms. That’s the pub down the lane, you know. No pints for him at the bar; drinks wine instead and goes right off to sit by himself in the corner. Never had a groom like that before. But that Antonia likes him, never mind poor Lord Torrington. My Daisy went up to the manor to see if she could do the cleaning again and there they were, big as life, kissing each other and who knows what else – the groom and Antonia, I mean.”

Laura’s eyebrows went up. Thomas wasn’t the only one, then. Did Antonia make a habit of seducing men?

“He’s not the only one, either,” Maude went on, echoing her thought. “There’s another I could name around here who’s been taken in by her. Terrible shame, that was, but it’s over now I guess.”

“Who was that?” Laura asked, intrigued. Surely he couldn’t be Thomas. As far as she knew he hadn’t been here long enough. Or had he?

Maude hesitated, obviously struggling between discretion and her desire to tell all. For once, discretion won the battle. “That I can’t say,” she replied primly. “No point raking over old gossip, is there? I mean, it’s all over and done with now, poor man.” She pressed her lips tightly together, as if to reinforce her decision, and Laura dared not ask more questions. Maude must like the man to keep his secret like this.

“Oh dear, I’ve been talking out of turn,” Maude exclaimed, flicking a cleaning rag over the next table. “What you must think!”

“I’m very interested,” Laura told her with a smile. “I wondered about Antonia myself. Do you suppose Lord Torrington knows what’s going on?”

“Not a clue, I’d say,” Maude replied. “But I’d be willing to wager the Baroness does. She’s a sharp one. Baroness in her own right, though I’m not sure quite how that works out, I mean the lineage and all. Never could get it straight. She came when he did, you see, being related.”

“How did she get to be a Baroness in her own right?” Laura asked curiously. “Did she marry someone called Baron Smythington?”

Maude frowned, thinking. “Can’t rightly say I know,” she answered, sounding surprised. “I guess she must have, but I don’t know who he was. Never did hear. Odd, now that I think about it. Still, a Baroness is a Baroness and that’s what counts.”

“If she was a Baroness before she came here, she obviously can’t be the wife of the old Baron, then,” Laura mused, trying to work out what this fact did to the grande dame’s relationship with Lord Torrington and Nigel.

“No indeed, that Baroness died a long time ago,” Maude assured her. “This Baroness came with Lord Torrington, and a good thing, too. She’s the one who keeps the place going, in my opinion. Doesn’t come to town much any more, though – losing her eyesight, they say. Still, people admire her.”

“Losing her eyesight?” Laura was astounded. The grande dame had looked as if she were seeing right through each of them.

“You’d never know it, would you? She looks at you so sharp. But they say it’s true. Poor lady. Sad.” Maude shook her head pityingly.

“Yes, it is sad,” Laura agreed. “She seemed to me to be such an impressive person. Even Lord Torrington seemed rather in awe of her.”

“That he is,” Maude laughed. “She runs the show up there. Of course, she’s the one with the money. That always tells.”

“The money?” Perhaps that was why the face in the painting had seemed familiar, Laura thought. People with money were always in the newspapers at one time or another, and so were Baronesses, especially young ones.

“Yes, so they say. Lord Torrington was living someplace outlandish like France when they finally found him. Hadn’t a penny as far as anyone could see. But she had, mark my word. Must have had, with all that restoration work she’s done. Costs a pretty penny to keep up a place like the manor, with taxes and all. That’s why they opened it up to the public, I suppose, like all the rest of the big places. Some of them even have zoos.”

Maude sighed lustily and began to clear Laura’s table. “The old Baron would turn over in his grave if he knew that Torrington Manor took in paying guests, but there it is.”

“So Lord Torrington and the Baroness haven’t been here that long,” Laura mused. “It seems odd. I had the feeling they had been there forever.”

“That’s the feel of the place, I expect,” Maude answered, “and they’ve settled right in. The Baroness used to open the annual fair and all that, but then Antonia came and now she does it. People don’t like that at all.”

“You mean Antonia came still later?” Laura was surprised.

“Oh yes, she did,” Maude said, shaking her head mournfully. “Almost two years ago now, I expect. She’s the new young wife, or so it’s said.” She sniffed disapprovingly again. “Not long after that the groom, if he is one, turned up. Or maybe it was the other way round. I’m not quite sure, really, but the pair of them came right on each other’s heels. Fishy, I call it. Brought the child with her too, Antonia did. Angelica, she’s called, or some such name that has an angel in it, and if that isn’t the limit I don’t know what is. She’s got a terrible temper if she doesn’t get her way. The old lady’s the only one who can handle her.

“Mind you,” she added with a knowing look at Laura, “there’s some as say the Baroness is too stiff, but I’m not one of them. Dignity, I call it, and I like a spot of dignity. Know where you are then, don’t you. Some of those royals are too chatty for me. My Daisy used to act like that poor Lady Diana was her best friend. All the girls did. But then, she encouraged it, poor girl.”

“What do people think of Nigel?” Laura asked, once again steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“He’s a good boy,” Maude declared firmly, “talented, too. He came in here one day and the bell was broken and he fixed it right up. And those faces he makes! Hard to believe they’re not real. Does those tours, too, and they’re a real attraction. He’s going to do mystery ones next summer, I hear. People like that. Brings tourists into town. Mind you, there’s some who criticize him because he hangs out with those hippies that live up in the woods, but I don’t pay any attention to that. Not bad kids, just mixed up. There’s new ones now, though, I’ve heard, and people aren’t so keen on this next lot. Bit of a bully, one of the kids, so they say.”

“How about the gardener?” Laura asked. “He seems a hostile fellow too, or at least he didn’t seem to like me.”

“You’re right about that,” Maude agreed fervently. “They hired him to be the butler first. He scared the guests off, so they got another butler and used him as a gardener. I can’t think why they didn’t just get rid of him instead.”

A customer entered and she hustled away. “Good talking to you,” she called back as she disappeared behind the curtain.

“Thank you so much!” Laura called after her. “I’ll be off now.” Leaving a generous tip on the table, she retrieved her boots and found the trail again. The second half of today’s walk was easy, the notes said, and she was glad. She felt too full of scones and undigested information to walk fast. Maude had been a veritable goldmine!

Questions poured into her mind. Why had a man as surly as the gardener been hired as a butler and then kept on instead of fired? Had he found out about Antonia’s affair with the groom and the other unknown man, and had threatened to blackmail her if she didn’t let him stay on? Or did he know something incriminating about the missing cook? Was the body hers? And where was it?

A horn brought Laura back to the present. Without noticing, she had turned onto a narrow road that accommodated only one small car going one direction at best. Both she and a six-wheeled lorry, English for truck, were trying to proceed along it. Worse, a car traveling the other way was almost upon them. Laura stepped into the bushes. Both drivers waved politely before they sped on at a pace that made her shudder.

Another car approached, going even faster. It was sleek and low, a sports car, a brand new and very expensive one, she suspected. Royalty and rock stars were reputed to live in this area, and she watched with interest as it sped by.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. The man driving it was the surly gardener! How could a gardener afford a car like that? The answer came quickly. The license plate spelled out
Lady T
. It must be Antonia’s car. Why was a gardener driving his employer’s high-priced car? More blackmail? And if Antonia could afford a car like that, why was Torrington Manor taking in paying guests?