Читать книгу Diamonds of Death - Vivian Conroy - Страница 13

Chapter Four

They whooshed through the entrance gate, seeing the house up ahead bathing in the afternoon sunshine. Alkmene gasped at its austere beauty, the many touches of refined architecture in the garden. The fountain, the sundial. The dove house. She had to explore soon and see it all up close. If she hadn’t come here on such a sad occasion and with a serious mission in mind, she would have been genuinely excited to see this place at last and meet the family she had never known. Her cousins who had grown up in India and who could no doubt share many fascinating stories about life there.

Jake parked the car right in front of the steps. Alkmene opened the door, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. ‘Remember to get out of the car like you have trouble with it. You can’t dart about like a puppy while claiming to need your driver every step of the way.’

Alkmene acknowledged that he was right and took her time getting out of the car. She put a hand on her back and used the other to shield her eyes as she glanced up at the house’s imposing facade. A lace curtain moved like someone was looking down.

Family member?

Curious servant?

The front door opened, and a butler came down the steps with a solemn expression. ‘Excuse me, but the house is not open for visitors today. We have had a death in the family.’

‘I am aware of that,’ Alkmene said, hiding her surprise that the house had apparently been open to the public previously. Families often decided to do it to collect necessary funds for restoration and upkeep, but she had not realized her own family might be in such a position. As Lord Winters had apparently owned a fortune in diamonds, such a measure would seem unnecessary.

The butler was expecting her to continue and she hastily said, ‘I am Lady Alkmene Callender, the late Lord Winters’ niece from London.’

Niece only by a percentage, but she need not tell that to the butler, she presumed. ‘I have come all the way down here to pay my respects to the family upon Lord Winters’ death.’

The man shot up straight. ‘Of course, Lady Alkmene. Will you be so good as to follow me inside? There is quite a strong wind today, which makes it rather chilly.’ He made an inviting gesture towards the open door.

Alkmene looked at Jake. ‘You can get the bags in, Parker.’

Jake’s jaw set, but he did what he was told without showing any clear signs of rebellion.

Alkmene covered the few yards slowly and with her hand still resting on the small of her back. ‘I do find travelling so very exerting,’ she said to nobody in particular, but surely the butler would be all ears. If a hitherto unknown member of a family showed up, it was usually a momentous occasion for the staff. Who was this? What were they doing here? She had no doubt they would assume her arrival was associated with a will somewhere that might benefit her.

She did feel like a scavenger again.

Inside the cool hallway she looked with admiration at the oil paintings, the mounted deer, the hunting rifles casually hung upon the far wall and over the stairs. The house breathed a true country atmosphere.

The door to her left opened, and a strikingly beautiful tall dark woman came out. ‘What is this?’ she asked in a deep, slightly throaty voice. ‘I told you we would not allow visitors in this week.’

‘Excuse me, my lady.’ The butler bowed his head. ‘This is the late Lord Winters’ niece. Lady Alkmene Callender.’

Alkmene flashed her brightest smile, then remembered she was here because of a death, and wiped the smile away again. She said demurely, ‘I read about Lord Winters’ death in the paper and felt it pertinent to travel here at once to pay my respects to his children. Especially to Anne, who wrote to me several times since your return to England.’

The woman seemed insecure a moment as if she wasn’t certain what to say or do next. Apparently she had not known about Anne’s letters. She glanced at Jake and the bags he was carrying. ‘You intend to stay here?’

It sounded cold and hostile, as if that was the worst plan Alkmene could ever have come up with.

Alkmene resisted smiling too wide again to cover up for the rudeness of this intrusion and said, ‘I came all the way from London. Quite a tiring journey. I intend to stay for a few days and enjoy the country air. So very good for the lungs, you know.’

The woman’s eyes flashed, but she gestured at the butler. ‘Have rooms prepared at once. Lady Alkmene can have the blue room.’

The butler’s eyes went wide. ‘But my lady… The blue room is… Was…’

She waved her hand again. ‘Do as I tell you.’ And to Alkmene she said, ‘Come in. You must wish to have some tea.’

She turned back into the room she had come from, calling over her shoulder at the butler, ‘Have Ms Deeds bring tea and sandwiches at once.’

Alkmene nodded at Jake. ‘You can put the bags in the blue room, Parker. Then you may move the car. The butler can tell you where to put it.’ With a careless, dismissive hand gesture, she entered the room.

It was large with golden curtains, several delicate cherrywood chairs, a desk with inlaid ivory and a large piano with music on top of it. The woman walked over and sat down. She ran her fingers across the keys producing a soft haunting tune.

Alkmene stood listening for a few moments, then seated herself in a chair. She had not been invited to, but then her back was really a little stiff from the long ride and her hostess didn’t seem intent on inviting her to sit at all.

She frowned. The woman’s behaviour was very odd. One moment she was in total command, acting like she ruled the household; the next moment her behaviour changed and she seemed insecure, as if she was only present on the scene by mistake and had no part at all in playing hostess to the sudden visitors.

There was the sound of hoof beats outside and as Alkmene looked out of the window, she saw a tall attractive young man on a black horse racing across the lawn. As he came from the shadows into the sunlight, he threw his head back as if he wanted to feel the sun’s warmth on his face. Could this be George, the younger of the two sons?

He halted in front of the house and dismounted, throwing the reins carelessly to a stable boy who had come running at the sound of his approach.

‘Helena! Helena!’ Bellowing as if he was calling for his dog, the handsome man ascended the steps in front of the house, banged the front door open, then shut, and entered the room where Alkmene sat. He only had eyes for the woman at the piano. He called, ‘The police keep saying the burglar did not have the stones on him. But that is impossible.’

Alkmene froze at the mention of the stones. Jake had said his friend Mac had been hired by George Winters to steal the stones. What on earth could George have intended with that action?

And had this woman been in on it? Was she George’s wife?

Alkmene could not recall whether George had married but then she might have missed the announcement.

At the sudden entrance the woman had stopped playing, rising abruptly. The look on her face made the new arrival fall silent. He followed the direction of her warning gaze and saw Alkmene. She smiled up at him, not bothering to rise. ‘Good afternoon. I am Lady Alkmene Callender, the late Lord Winters’ niece.’

‘I know no one by that name. Get going.’ He gestured at the woman. ‘Come with me. We have to talk.’

The woman flushed. ‘George, please, don’t be so rude. This is really your father’s niece.’

George stood, his feet planted apart, surveying Alkmene with his deep set dark eyes. ‘So what?’ he asked at last. ‘My father is dead, and I don’t care for any niece of his. You sure never bothered to come here before.’

Alkmene blinked at the blunt statement, at the same time acknowledging it was true. Anne had written to her, and she had simply ignored the letters, not really sure what to do with them. Maybe George knew that Anne had written and never received a reply?

Or this rudeness could just be George’s way of dealing with his father’s violent death.

‘My father is away in India,’ she said hurriedly, intending to use his absence as some sort of an excuse, but the young man grabbed at his head, saying, ‘I don’t want to hear anything about that accursed place. That is where it all began, that…’

He looked at the woman, his expression suddenly vaguely panicky. ‘We really have to talk.’

The woman smiled at him and spoke in a slow, soothing tone as if to a child, ‘Of course we will. Please excuse me, Lady Alkmene. I will be back as soon as I can.’

She left the room together with the impetuous young man.

Now at least she had met two family members. Alkmene wished Father had told her more about family relations, but realizing in the same thought that if Father had any idea of what she was doing here, he would be appalled. He had carefully kept from her what exactly had happened to her aunt. There had to be some reason for it.

Nothing good.

Alkmene shifted her weight uncomfortably. Perhaps it was her own pressing awareness of duplicity in coming here. But there seemed to be something odd to this house. Unbalanced.

Vaguely threatening.

Metal clanged outside the door, and moments later, a plump woman entered with a trolley holding fine china and trays with muffins, scones and sandwiches. ‘Did I hear Master George?’ she asked, looking around the room.

Alkmene smiled. ‘He was here a moment ago, but he stepped out with his wife. He will be back soon.’

‘Master George has no wife. You must mean Lady Helena. She is married to Lord Albert. She owns it all now.’

The woman’s tone was resentful.

Alkmene flushed over her faux pas. But George’s apparent dependency on this woman and her way of accommodating him had suggested a closer bond than that of in-laws.

Alkmene said quickly, ‘I see you prepared all these delicious things for George.’

‘Whenever he goes out riding, he comes back with an appetite.’ The woman smiled, her face wrinkling round the eyes and mouth. ‘I do like to spoil him a little.’

She came over two steps and studied Alkmene. ‘You must forgive me, my lady, for saying so, but you do look a lot like your mother. I only saw her in photographs but she was so pretty. The late Lady Winters talked about her sister in England a lot. It is good to see you here.’

Alkmene returned her smile. This sudden rush of appreciation felt like a warm bath after the family members’ cold reception of her. ‘My mother died when I was very young. If you can tell me anything about her, I would be very grateful. Perhaps we can talk some time while I am here?’

The woman’s expression changed at once, from warmth and welcome to fear. ‘I do not think it possible, my lady. The new Lady Winters is very stern; she doesn’t like staff engaging with the guests.’

There was a sound in the hallway, and she shot back, curtsying nervously. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

She retreated in a rush to the door, almost bumping into the dark handsome woman who came back in. ‘Have you poured?’ Helena snapped at the servant.

‘No, but…’ The woman swallowed hard.

Alkmene jumped to her feet. ‘I said I would do it. I enjoy puttering with tea stuff.’ As she said it, she realized how ridiculous it was to act like hostess in this strange house and how she would not endear herself to the other woman by this approach. Barge in, act like she belonged here. While Helena now ‘owned it all’ as the housekeeper had aptly put it.

But Alkmene didn’t want the housekeeper to feel bad about her faux pas. If she had known her mother’s half-sister and had even seen photographs of her mother shown by this half-sister, she wanted to know more about that.

Her hostess came closer with short abrupt steps. ‘I will do it. You must be tired from your journey. You had better sit.’

It sounded like she was instructing a dog.

Alkmene sank back and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Lord Winters’ death must have come as quite a shock to you. I mean, it being so sudden and…violent. I believe he was killed in a burglary?’

‘Yes. I actually saw it happen.’

‘The murder?’ Alkmene cried. Dismay knotted her stomach. Jake had forgotten to mention to her that there was an actual eyewitness for the killing. That would make proving his friend’s innocence kind of hard.

Her hostess said, ‘I saw that dreadful man leaning over my father-in-law, his gloved hands full of blood. It was horrible to see. I was so glad there were able men here who could jump him and control him before he killed me too.’

‘You came upon the scene because you had heard noise?’

‘I saw light under the door and wanted to ask if Lord Winters needed anything.’

‘In the dead of night?’ Alkmene caught her own incredulous tone and added quickly, ‘The papers I read must have had the time of the killing wrong then. It was earlier, in the evening?’

Her hostess fussed with the teapot. ‘No, it was late, but we had had guests who had only left an hour before that. I was still awake. I have trouble sleeping sometimes when it has been an exciting day.’

Again there was this odd change from the woman in charge to a little girl talking, in a wistful tone. ‘I came from the library where I had picked up a book to read.’

‘I thought Lord Winters had died in the library.’

‘No, he had books in that room, but it was more like his private study. The library is another room, for the use of everyone in the household. It holds some precious first editions. You might like to see them later on. If you like books. Do you take sugar in your tea? Cream?’

‘Neither, thank you.’ To continue talk of the murder, Alkmene hurried to say, ‘I like books very much, thank you. So you came from the library and saw this light under the door of Lord Winters’ private study and naturally you knocked to ask if anything was…wanted.’

The woman sighed as she spooned sugar into her own cup. ‘I opened the door and there was this man, leaning over the body of my father-in-law. The blood and… It was terrible. But at least he was caught before he could leave. He will pay for what he did.’

Alkmene hesitated. ‘If you did not see the burglar killing your father-in-law, how can you be sure he actually killed him?’

Helena’s eyes flashed a moment with a strange light. ‘What else could have happened? The police have gotten out of him how he entered via the front of the house. He actually climbed up like a monkey and forced his way in through a window. He then killed my father-in-law who caught him red-handed.’

Alkmene said pensively, ‘If he climbed up, he must have noticed somebody was in the room. Why take the chances and commit murder?’

‘I assume the room was empty when he came in. My father-in-law must have walked in on him.’

‘I suppose so,’ Alkmene said. ‘How fortunate you did not pass the door earlier and were the one to walk in on the burglar.’

Again there was that flash in Helena’s eyes. She picked up Alkmene’s cup. ‘It will take me time to get over it. Get over living in this house after what happened. I never liked it much to begin with. It is so grey and solemn.’

Alkmene looked around. ‘I think it is a very grand old house.’

‘Perhaps you think there is something in the will for you?’ Helena looked her over with cold eyes. ‘That is why you are here?’

Trying to ignore her intimidating attitude, Alkmene leaned back. ‘I have no need of any inheritance. I have money of my own.’

She put a slight emphasis on the word I, implying a subtle contrast with the woman opposite to her.

Her hostess was now right in front of her, holding out the cup of tea on a saucer to her. ‘There you go.’

Then by a sudden movement she let the cup slip off the saucer and spilled the hot tea right across Alkmene’s lap.

Alkmene yelped as the hot liquid scorched her skin. She jumped to her feet and peeled the fabric of her skirt away from her legs. It still burned awfully.

‘I am so sorry,’ Helena said. ‘I will get you a cloth.’ In a flurry of cold air she quit the room.

Alkmene held the soaked garment away from her person. A haze actually came from it, so hot the water had been. She was sure Helena had dropped the tea on purpose, trying to hurt her. Had it just been a response to her subtle reference to the difference between the two of them in terms of position and wealth – born into it or having married into it – or had the woman already decided on this course of action before? From the moment the butler had announced to her who this guest was.

An unwanted guest it seemed.

Alkmene walked to the door, determined to go up to the blue room and change at once. She’d think about getting the tea stains out later.

A hysterical voice said, ‘She is despicable turning up here, like she owns the house. I am sure she thinks she will have it now. She claims to be related to your mother. Always her, always your mother.’

Then a stream of foreign words followed, punctuated by gasps for air.

Alkmene looked into the hallway. A dark-haired thickset man stood opposite to Helena, holding her by the shoulders. He shook her while she raved on, her head moving from side to side like she was in a frenzy.

Then he raised his hand and struck Helena full in the face.

She fell silent at once. Only her eyes stayed alive, on fire, burning at him with an intensity that made Alkmene cringe. She had rarely seen such raw hatred in a human’s eyes. It was more the murderous feeling of a tiger when it looks its captor in the eye, determined to get back at him someday and kill him in order to be free again.

Helena pulled herself free and ran up the stairs, almost bumping into Jake Dubois, who was coming down. The man standing below frowned at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘Lady Alkmene’s driver, sir.’

‘Sir?’ The man scoffed. ‘That is Lord Winters to you, chap. Get yourself to the kitchens and don’t dare show your face around here again.’

Lord Winters turned away from Jake to the room Alkmene was in. She retreated quickly so he found her standing close to the piano, still holding her wet skirt.

‘Ah, Lady Alkmene…’ He wanted to smile at her, but his features froze as he saw her awkward stance. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Lady Winters spilled tea over me and went to fetch a cloth.’ Alkmene smiled. ‘Lord Winters, I presume?’

‘Yes, but you can call me Albert, if I am allowed to say Alkmene.’ He shook her hand. He had such a nice normal friendly face she could not believe she had just seen him slap his wife across the cheeks. ‘I have not had the pleasure of seeing your father in years, but then he does travel so much. I hope he is well?’

‘Very well, but on a journey again, so I felt obliged to come out here and tell you how sorry I am about your father’s death. So sudden, so violent. To be killed in one’s own home, the place where one feels safe…’

A strange emotion flickered in Albert’s eyes as she said those latter words.

He let go of her hand at once and said, turning away from her, ‘Yes, well, Father did insist on keeping precious gems here, that should better have been put in a safe in a bank. I often warned him it would attract burglars, but he never listened. You must know yourself that stubborn old men are often hard to convince of anything they do not want to hear.’

‘Of course. I dare say your father paid a high price for not heeding your good advice.’

Albert stood and arranged the papers on the piano. ‘Everybody does,’ he said in a low voice, almost like he was talking to himself. ‘Everybody always does.’