2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink Read online

  'I am not offended. But before I leave here, he will admit it. Oh, yes.'

  * * *

  After returning, showering and changing, Paul found Gerry in the drawing room with Merryweather, who had just brought her a pot of tea.

  'Hullo,' she said. 'Want a cup?'

  'Please.'

  'Can I get you anything to eat, sir?' Merryweather asked.

  'No, thanks. Not with high tea so close.'

  'No doubt you are wise, sir,' Merryweather said. He sighed.

  Gerry said, 'You don't approve of high tea, do you, Merry?'

  'It is not a meal I recognise, your ladyship, though I acknowledge the need of it on occasions.'

  'You coming along to the show, Merryweather?' Paul asked.

  'Thank you, no, sir. I attended one year. The daughter of Hawkins the chauffeur was performing and I felt an obligation. It was an experience I would not wish to repeat.' He withdrew.

  'Good ride?' Paul inquired.

  'Yes, thank you. Rex is a fine horseman, and excellent company.'

  'Oh, it's Rex now, is it?'

  'Why not? If you choose to let us spend the afternoon together, while you go off on your own . . .'

  'Oh, don't be like that, Gerry. I must do a certain amount of training. And I'm really not good on horseback. Besides, I wanted to think.' His face was troubled. She looked at him closely. 'Is anything wrong?'

  'Well.' He stopped. 'I don't know what to do.'

  'About what?'

  'A conversation I overheard this morning.'

  'What's the problem?'

  'I can't decide whether I ought to take it further. You see, I was eavesdropping - quite accidentally, of course, and unavoidably.'

  'Then I don't see how you can do anything about it.'

  'Normally that's what I'd say. Except - what I heard was so fantastic.'

  'Oh?' She looked intrigued.

  'It's so unbelievable that I think the person may have been joking. But the words were spoken so seriously. And if they were true, then I can't help feeling that I ought to tell your father about it.'

  'Why Daddy?'

  'Because it means one of the people in this house is here under completely false pretences.'

  'Oh. Then why don't you go to him - or her - and ask straight out?'

  'Yes, I think I'm going to have to do that. But I feel such a fool. They're sure to deny it, or claim it was a joke, or that I misheard or misunderstood.'

  'Could you have?'

  'That's what I've been asking myself all afternoon. I just don't know.'

  'Is it important you do something immediately?'

  He looked thoughtful. 'I suppose not.'

  'Then why not give it a few more hours? Maybe the truth will come to light without your having to do anything.'

  His face lightened. 'Yes, perhaps you're right. Oh, Gerry, you always give such good advice! You've got so much common sense.'

  'Don't be beastly! That's a horrible thing to say about me. Someone like Hugh's got common sense, not me.'

  'Ah! So Quartus is horrible, is he?'

  'I didn't mean it like that! In certain people common sense is all right.'

  'Only 'all right'? Gerry, do I detect a slight change in your attitude toward friend Quartus?'

  'You - you may. You're not to read anything into it, though.'

  'But this must be the result of your having had a chance to study him at close quarters, and compare him with me.'

  'Don't flatter yourself.'

  'But I shall. I love to flatter myself. After all, nobody else does. And you've got to admit I am much nicer than he is.'

  'The conceit of the man!'

  'No. I've been weighting myself up - and him. I am nicer than he is. Not that there's anything very exciting about niceness. I'm not as clever as he. In addition I'm lazy, rather selfish, and - at least where you're concerned - unscrupulous. Anything I can say to put you off him I will.'

  'At least you're honest.'

  'I try not to be, but with you I can't help myself.'

  'The influence of a good woman,' she murmured.

  'I know. It's awful. I've never experienced it before and it's ruining my life. Gerry, are you in love with Quartus?'

  Gerry looked at him for a moment, then stood up, crossed to the window and stared out over the park. It was now nearly dark and the trees were gaunt grey skeletons against the only slightly lighter grey sky She said, 'Snow any time now.'

  Paul joined her at the window and gently turned her to face him. 'You didn't answer my question.'

  'Am I in love with Hugh? I don't know.'

  'Oh, sweetheart, you must!'

  'I don't, honestly, Paul.'

  'Well, do you love me?'

  She nodded. 'Oh, yes!'

  His face lit up. 'You do? But that's marvellous! Gerry, I don't know what to say. It's like a dream come—'

  She interrupted. 'I love you, Paul. But I don't know if I'm in love with you, either.'

  'Oh, that's splitting hairs!'

  'It's not, really.'

  'Well, then: you don't know if you're in love with Quartus. But do you love him?'

  'Oh, no! Sometimes I hate him.'

  Paul gave a mock groan of despair. 'Women! Ye gods! I'll never understand them.'

  'Surely you never expected to, did you.'

  'In my innocent youth I think I did.'

  'I'm sorry, Paul. I've treated you badly. You and Hugh.'

  'Oh, forget Hugh! He doesn't love you.'

  'I think he does. In his own way.'

  'A deuced funny way. I suppose he's still with Lorenzo, is he?'

  'I imagine so.'

  'At least I did spend the afternoon on my own, and not slobbering over another woman. If you ask me, he's got it bad.'

  Gerry didn't answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  At six-thirty the male section of the party had assembled in the great hall.

  Rex looked at his watch. 'Seems we're short a couple of ladies.' He'd been ready to leave before anyone else and had been waiting patiently in the drawing room for twenty minutes as the others trickled down.

  'No, you're not.' Gerry spoke from the stairs.

  The Earl looked up. 'Where's Miss Lorenzo?'

  'Still in her room, I expect.'

  'Someone better tell her we're ready to leave.'

  'I'll go.'

  Gerry retraced her steps to the top of the stairs, made her way to Laura's room and tapped on the door. 'Avanti.'

  Gerry went in. Laura, wearing her velvet evening gown and a matching cartwheel hat from which drooped an emerald feather, was seated at her dressing table, writing a letter. Without looking up, she said, 'Oh, Eloise, I—'

  She raised her head and saw Gerry. 'Oh.' With a sudden, rather furtive movement, she closed her writing case. 'Lady Geraldine, mi scusi. I thought that would be my maid.'

  Gerry smiled. 'Just to say that we're ready to leave.'

  Laura glanced at a tiny jewelled wristwatch. 'It is later than I thought. I, er, was hoping to feenish a letter - just a reply to a fan - before we leave so I could post it in the veellage.'

  'I'm afraid the last collection in the village was at six. We could have somebody take it to Westchester.'

  'No, please, it does not matter.'

  She opened a drawer, slipped the writing case inside and closed it. Then she crossed to the wardrobe, took out her magnificent mink coat and put it on. She and Gerry went downstairs.

  A few minutes later the party left. The Countess and Cecily waved them off and went back inside.

  'Well, my dear, we might as well start our bridge, don't you think?' Lady Burford said.

  'Oh, so soon?'

  'Not if you have something else—'

  'No, no. I'll just go up and fetch Sebastian. He's having a nap.'

  'Very well. Would you look in on Miss Fry, please, and bring her down? Tell her Mr Gilbert's left the house and we're ready to start our game.'

  * * *


  News of the personal appearance of Rex Ransom had obviously spread far and wide. The village hall was ablaze with light, and a crowd of about seventy people, ineffectually controlled by the village constable, was gathered outside. The Rolls drew up and a cheer broke out as Rex alighted. He grinned and waved. Autograph books were thrust into his hands, and as a photographer from the Westshire Advertiser popped flashbulbs, he made his way slowly up to the doors, the rest of the Alderley party following like a train of courtiers.

  Across the entrance to the hall a banner, bearing the words WELCOME REX, had been hung, and Rex stood beneath it, waving to the crowd before finally going inside.

  The hall was packed, and there was another great cheer as Rex was spotted and, with the rest of the party, made his way to reserved seats at the front. Shortly afterwards the entertainment commenced.

  * * *

  Sebastian Everard stared at his cards. 'Now, what did I say? Was it Two Clubs, Ah, yes - you said One Heart, didn't you, Lavinia? I nearly said One No Trump, though I hadn't quite got the count, and then you said One Heart, so I had to go Two Clubs. I always find it jolly difficult when one has two short suits.'

  Lady Burford sighed. She wondered how soon she could put an end to this farce. Really, Sebastian might just as well lay his cards face up on the table. She looked apologetically at Maude Fry, who, from the expression on her face, would clearly rather be elsewhere. For a skilled player, this must seem an utter waste of time.

  However, it wasn't long before there came a welcome diversion. Merryweather entered.

  'Excuse me, my lady,' he said, 'a Miss Jemima Dove has just arrived.'

  Lady Burford looked surprised. 'Jemima Dove? Who is she? And what does she want at this time on a Friday night?'

  'I think, my lady, that she is expecting to stay. She has a suitcase.'

  'Does the woman think this is a hotel?'

  'She did ask me to tender her apologies for arriving at such an inconvenient hour.'

  'Well, find out what she wants, Merryweather.'

  'Yes, my lady. Naturally, I should have done so, only I assumed from the young lady's manner that she was someone you were expecting and had omitted to mention.'

  He started back towards the door, but stopped when the Countess suddenly said, 'Oh, my goodness, I believe I am — expecting her, I mean. But not yet, surely.'

  Cecily said, 'A guest arriving ahead of schedule?'

  'Not exactly. I think she may be the woman who's coming to recatalogue the library. I've never met her; it was arranged through an agency. But I'm certain she wasn't due until the week after next. Merryweather, if she is the lady, show her in please. And send somebody to fetch the desk diary from my boudoir. I suppose you'd better have another bedroom prepared, as well - the Lilac, I think.'

  'Yes, your ladyship.'

  Merryweather withdrew, to return a minute later, accompanied by a small, fragile-looking girl. She had soft brown hair and big grey eyes behind large and strangely masculine-looking glasses. She was pretty, in a quiet, demure way. She had a slightly lost air.

  The Countess said, 'Do come across to the fire, Miss Dove. I'm sure you're cold.'

  Miss Dove crossed the room, 'Oh, thank you. Yes, I am. Lady Burford, I'm terribly sorry to arrive so late. It's the weather. The roads are terribly slippery and I got lost three times. I've been driving for hours.' She had a soft, rather musical voice.

  The Countess said, 'You drove yourself? From where?'

  'Cambridge.'

  'My, my, you must be tired.'

  'I am, rather. And I had hoped to start work before this. I do trust the delay hasn't inconvenienced you too much.'

  'No, not at all,'

  Just then Merryweather returned with the Countess's desk diary.

  'Thank you, Merryweather.' Lady Burford flicked through the pages, then gave a nod. 'As I thought. Miss Dove, I haven't been inconvenienced, because - and you'll find out sooner or later - I wasn't expecting you until the week after next.'

  Miss Dove's face fell. 'The week after next!'

  'Yes; Monday the nineteenth.' She held out the diary for the girl to see.

  When she looked up there was an expression of dismay on Jemima Dove's face. 'But I'm sure the agency said the ninth. Here, I wrote it down at the time.'

  She delved into her handbag and drew out a small pocket diary. She found the date and handed it to the Countess. 'You see.'

  'Yes, I see. Well, no doubt the agency is at fault. I shall get in touch with them on Monday. But in the meantime—'

  'In the meantime, I must leave at once.' Jemima Dove was pink with embarrassment. 'I'm so terribly sorry. And thank you for being so kind.' She moved towards the door. 'I'll come back on the nineteenth, of course.'

  'Don't be silly, child. I couldn't turn you out on a night like this. Besides, it's better to be early than late, and there's no reason why you can't stay and commence work as soon as you wish.'

  'Oh, Lady Burford, are you sure? It won't be inconvenient?'

  'Not at all. It's true we have a number of guests at the moment and they tend to wander in and out of the library, but if they don't disturb you, I'm certain you won't disturb them. Now, take your things off and let me perform some introductions.'

  Jemima Dove shook hands shyly with Sebastian, Cecily and Maude Fry, and then said, 'I'm afraid I interrupted your card game. Please do carry on.'

  'We had just finished a rubber,' Lady Burford said. She addressed the others. 'I don't know whether you want to continue . . .'

  'Well, if you don't mind, I'd rather - rather like to pack up now,' Sebastian said. 'Always find bridge jolly exhausting.' He yawned. 'Fact is, think I'll have an early night, if no one minds. Pretty wearing sort of day all round, actually. 'Night, all.' He ambled from the room.

  'I'm sorry about that,' Cecily said. 'I'm afraid Sebastian's not really a very good player. I rarely get the chance of a decent game.' She sounded quite sad. Then she looked at Jemima. 'You don't play, I suppose?'

  'Bridge? Well, yes, I do.'

  Cecily brightened. 'Really? Then perhaps we could have a proper game. What do you say, Lavinia?'

  'By all means, if Miss Fry and Miss Dove would care to play.'

  They both expressed their willingness, Maude Fry adding, 'But I would like to slip up to my room for ten minutes first.'

  Jemima said, 'I'll come with you and find my room. I'd like to freshen up.'

  'It's on the right at the end of the west wing,' Lady Burford told her. 'The Lilac room. You'll find your things have been taken up.'

  Jemima and Maude Fry left the room. At the top of the stairs, Jemima hesitated. 'West wing: now which way would that be?'

  'To your left.'

  'Are you near me?'

  'No; I'm in the east wing, halfway along.'

  'I see.'

  They went their separate ways.

  Maude Fry was the first to return to the drawing room, ten minutes later. It was a further five minutes before Jemima came in.

  'Oh, I hope I haven't kept you waiting,' she said a little breathlessly. Then she saw that Lady Burford had had some refreshments sent in, and started to express her gratitude. Lady Burford stopped her — not, however, adding that Jemima's arrival was really a godsend. What she would have done with Cecily and Maude Fry for several more hours she just didn't know.

  The children's talent contest was a great success. Most of the entrants rose to the occasion, and the committee had created so many classes of competition that the judges were able to make some sort of award to every entrant. Meanwhile Rex, handing out the prizes, was in top form — radiating charm, good humour and an air of innocent enjoyment.

  One person who, at the beginning, was plainly unhappy with this situation was Laura. She was clearly unused to taking a back seat. However, her striking looks quickly attracted attention, and after the Earl had quietly explained to the MC who she was, she was introduced to the audience and then assisted with the presentations. If Rex was not altogether ple
ased about this, he didn't show it.

  The proceedings ended with more photographs and autograph signing, after which the Alderley group retired backstage for coffee with the committee and other village VIPs.

  They eventually left at nine-thirty and arrived at the Needham's to find that quite a party had been arranged, with about twenty other guests, a huge supply of drink (at the sight of this, Arlington Gilbert, who'd been sunk in a morose gloom all the evening, immediately brightened) and piles of foodstuffs.

  It was nearly half past twelve before the Alderley group finally got away. Gilbert had to be gently guided out to Lord Burford's Rolls.

  As Gerry was climbing into Paul's car she felt the lightest of tickles on her forehead. She glanced up and felt several more. 'It's come at last,' she said.

  Thick snowflakes were starting to fall.

  She got in, shivering slightly and glancing a little wistfully at the Rolls, which was already sweeping down the drive. A convertible sports car was not the warmest form of transport on a winter's night.

  * * *

  Paul peered through the cloud of whirling snowflakes, which were being driven against his windshield. He swore softly.

  Gerry, her eyes closed, sunk down in her seat, her hands in her pockets and her coat collar up, murmured, 'What's the matter?'

  'I've lost the taillight of the Rolls.'

  'Well, you know the way, don't you?'

  'Hope so, but there's such a maze of winding lanes round here that I'm not too confident. Do you know where we are?'

  'Of course I don't!'

  'But this is your country.'

  'I was asleep until woken by your foul language and the bitter cold. I don't even know how long we've been driving.' She peered into the gloom. 'There are three or four routes Hawkins could have taken. All these narrow country roads look exactly alike in the dark, particularly in a snow storm. If I could spot some landmark . . .'

  'Oh, don't worry. I know roughly where we are.' Gerry closed her eyes again. Five or ten minutes passed. Then she sat up with a start as the car suddenly gave a sort of shudder. She said, 'Oh, no, I don't believe it!'