Murder at Melrose Court: A 1920s Country House Murder (Heathcliff Lennox) Read online

  The butler had turned red but maintained a stoic dignity as I gave him my best steely-eyed glare. That didn’t achieve much, so I turned on my heel and took off for the west wing, Cooper valiantly trying to keep up with me.

  The Italian suite was ornamented with gilded putti, Venetian mirrors and trompe l’oeil from floor to ceiling – exactly the sort of place you’d expect to find a French dancing-master mincing about, or a pricy tart in her knickers.

  ‘No –’ I looked it up and down ‘– it’s got angels on the ceiling! Out of the question. Looks like a bloody bordello, Cooper.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not familiar with such establishments, sir.’

  ‘Er, no, well, neither am I – but I imagine it does … not that I imagine such things. Never mind, Cooper.’ This was getting tricky, I switched track. ‘Why the devil didn’t you put the Countess in here?’

  ‘She requested rooms closer to His Lordship, sir.’

  That took the wind out of my sails; couldn’t argue against womanly sentiment. ‘Right.’ I ran fingers through my hair. ‘Well, move everything to the Blue rooms at the back, and don’t argue with me, Cooper.’

  ‘No, sir. Certainly sir.’

  Disconcerted and feeling a trifle low, I called for my dog and coat and stomped off for a long walk through the snow-strewn woods.

  ‘Blanket,’ I demanded of the footman when he opened the front door to us.

  I’d given orders for a dog blanket to be made available to rub down Mr Fogg on our return, and the footman had kept it to hand for that very purpose. Fogg was duly rubbed, bundled up and taken to the kitchens for a meal, a cuddle by the kitchen maids and a warm lodging by the stove until all the mud fell off.

  I went up to survey my new lodgings in the north-west corner; the Blue rooms had been decorated through the decades in various shades of the colour, many of which could be seen exposed in layers peeling from the woodwork. The wallpaper of dainty forget-me-nots had faded sufficiently to be inoffensive, and the smell of damp, mouse droppings and woodsmoke was so familiar that it was barely worth noting. The rooms were inconvenient and over-furnished with outdated pieces from the rest of the house, including a four-poster bed, a couple of oak coffers, and some antique carved cupboards set against the walls. Upon opening one, I discovered my jerseys carefully stacked and folded in waxed paper and strewn with mothballs.

  My books had been placed in an age-blackened bookshelf, and I picked through them to choose a few to pile on my bedside table, with Moby Dick on top, it being my favourite. Then I threw some more coal on the fire and gave it a good jab with the poker to keep it blazing because, quite frankly, it was bloody freezing in there.

  I hadn't been in these rooms since Edgar and I were children playing hide and seek, so I was unsure where anything was. Behind what appeared to be a cupboard door I found an unheated bathroom with mahogany and brass fittings, and next to it a large dressing room with a spacious built-in closet, fitted with numerous shelves and racks. This had been filled with my hunting garb, hats, caps, boots, shoes, fishing gear and my collection of guns – the guns I kept here, that was, not the ones I had at home. I looked up and around, switched on and off the lights – which didn’t work – and then went to test the wing chair set before the fireplace. The rooms were to my liking; comfortable, old-fashioned, and reminiscent of my own home at the Manor.

  There was still enough daylight to see quite well outside, so I crossed to the windows. The bedroom overlooked the stable block and outhouses; servants were dashing across the snowy courtyard between the house and outbuildings. Marvellous! Very interesting to watch them at work; I’d never been sure what they did when the family wasn’t around, and now I had an excellent opportunity to observe. I sat in the window seat and remained there until it grew dark. Then I drew the curtains, lit an oil lamp and a couple of candles and dressed for dinner while contemplating the inevitable meeting with Countess Sophia, my new Aunt-to-be.

  Making my way briskly downstairs in the direction of the drawing room, I was diverted by the thought of Cuban cigars, so I swung into the smoking room to take my pick from the humidor. Someone was already in there: I heard Peregrine bloody Kingsley clearing his throat. Fortunately, the room was dimly lit and I hadn’t been spotted, so I started to back out. But I paused when I heard a female voice.

  ‘Peregrine, please be careful. I do not wish to cause upsets.’

  ‘Oh Natasha, my dear,’ Peregrine Kingsley replied. ‘Just seeing you, being close to you, it is enough and yet…’

  ‘Do not say more. There is much we need to think of.’

  ‘Please don’t worry. I am your faithful and loving servant, my darling girl. I will do anything for you, Anything.’

  I exited quietly, eyebrows raised. Natasha must be the Countess’s niece. I knew Kingsley to be a ladies’ man, but surely he was old enough to be her father!

  Christmas was beginning to look peculiarly singular this year.

  Cousin Edgar was the only inhabitant of the drawing room, and I was mightily pleased to see him.

  Edgar was my double cousin and younger than me by a month – we had been brought up almost as brothers and had always felt as though we were. The family background is convoluted: Uncle Charles, being the oldest, had inherited the estate and the title of eighth Lord Melrose. His younger brother and sister, Hugh and Caroline, had married two American siblings, Mary-Rose and Bertrand Coleman, both wealthy heirs to the same oil fortune. All this made for a close and surprisingly happy family. Each of the younger couples had a son: Hugh had sired me, and Caroline had given birth to Edgar Coleman. Uncle Charles, who’d married Mary, failed to produce any living children; consequently the title would one day fall on me, and so would the estate and funds – or at least that had been the intention until now.

  ‘Edgar! You’re here, thank God! Between lawyers and foreigners, I was beginning to feel like a stranger in the house.’

  ‘Lennox, how the devil are you? I thought you were going to bail. I just arrived a half hour ago, it’s snowing a blizzard – had a terrible trip down on the train, stopped at every damn station between Paddington and Melrose,’ Edgar laughed, shaking my hand and warmly embracing me. ‘Uncle is resting, and Cooper warned me Peregrin Kingsley’s here, soon to be followed by son Adam and his wife. Thought we were going to be outnumbered by the Kingsley clan! Can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you, old man.’

  I laughed with him; it was a terrific treat to see him again. ‘Why can’t they find other relatives to sponge off?’ I complained. ‘They turn up every damn Christmas like a recurring plague.’

  ‘Ha, they won’t find such an easy touch as Uncle anywhere else. Except you, maybe.’ He eyed me as he spoke, but I chose to ignore the jibe.

  Grinning, he sat back down and picked up a goblet of brandy from the table next to his elbow. ‘To you, Lennox, and another Melrose Christmas.’

  ‘Hang on. Let me get a glass, I’m in need of a snifter, too.’

  Rather than pull the bell for Cooper, I poured it myself from the decanter on the sideboard and dropped into a fireside chair opposite him. I must say Edgar was looking very natty with his dark hair slicked back in the new style, with a dab of oil to keep it in place. I raised my glass and we took a warming sip of excellent brandy.

  ‘You’re looking remarkably well, Edgar. New tailor?’

  He brushed a hand over the lapel of the extremely well-cut suit he was sporting. ‘Yes, Savile Row! Hellish pricey, but worth every penny I’d say. Requirement of the job to look the part, you know!’

  ‘No, I don’t know and never have. The diplomatic corps or whatever you call it is a world away from my rural retreat, and that’s the way I like it.’

  ‘Told you many a time, Lennox, you need to get out and about in the world, you’re rusticating away in the middle of nowhere. Completely wasted, old man.’ He leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed. ‘Our foreign skulduggery may not interest you, but there’s plenty of home-grown intrigue
that could use your abstract intellect.’

  ‘Abstract intellect! What the devil is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Erratic. Your brain bounces around, always has, then comes out with something completely unexpected in the end.’ Edgar always did have a way of sugaring his insults.

  ‘I’ll take my erratic brain elsewhere if you keep talking such drivel,’ I retorted, and then switched to the subject uppermost in my mind. ‘I assume you know about the engagement?’

  ‘Yes, of course I know – I introduced them. Countess Sophia is a delightful lady, full of fun.’ He regarded me closely over his glass, observing my reaction, which I hid as best I could.

  ‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that – although you could have mentioned it.’

  Edgar drew out two slim French cigars and tossed one to me, lighting his own with a heavy gold lighter, and blew smoke toward the ceiling. I followed suit, savouring the taste.

  ‘Been on my travels; and anyway you’re a worst correspondent than I am,’ he said in his defence.

  Which was true, although I wasn’t going to admit it.

  Edgar turned a tad more serious. ‘I’m sorry, Lennox, I was going to write but it was pretty quick and all a bit complicated. I’m relieved you’re here so I can tell you face to face.’

  ‘As you damn well should. Uncle dropped the news on me today. It sounded like a whirlwind romance straight out of some ghastly penny dreadful.’

  ‘Ha, well, it wasn’t that bad.’ Edgar laughed quietly. ‘Poor Uncle, touched at last by the old urges.’

  ‘Touched, anyway,’ I replied wryly. ‘So where did you encounter the Countess?’

  ‘Paris.’ Edgar answered through a cloud of smoke. ‘I was staying at the embassy for a few days and met Sophia at one of the balls. She’s one of the White Russian emigrés – escaped the Bolshevik revolution back in ’17. There’s a whole enclave of them in Paris now.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Really? You know her?’

  ‘I mean I know about them being in Paris; how they escaped Russia after all the battles and bombings and such. I’ve heard about it – I mean, read about it in the papers, you know.’ I was babbling, a bad habit when nervous, so I swiftly changed tack. ‘How did you introduce her to Uncle Charles? He never leaves the country.’

  ‘She’d come over to London, not sure why. Probably selling jewels or some such – most of the Russian gentry grabbed their portables and fled when the Reds took over. They’ve been providing a nice supply of fancy baubles ever since. Anyway, I was invited to the ex-Russian Ambassador’s London house for a soirée, and she was there. She had her niece Natasha with her on that occasion – rather an attractive girl actually. We bumped into each other from time to time, and when Uncle came to visit his Harley Street quack he stayed at my flat, and I asked Sophia and Natasha to dine with us. Which all went rather well.’

  ‘Judging by their engagement, it must have gone extremely well!’

  Edgar laughed. ‘Haven’t seen the old man so happy in a very long while – he’s quite dotty about the whole thing. Personally, I think it’ll do him a world of good: she’ll chivvy him up, get him going again, don’t you think?’

  I nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I imagine so. But … how much do you really know about her, Edgar? It’s all a bit sudden. Is she who she says she is?’

  ‘Oh, come now, Lennox, I met her in the best possible circles; she wouldn’t be able to cross the doorstep of those rarified enclaves if she weren’t top notch.’ He jabbed his cigar in my direction. ‘And although you may not think so, I am an excellent judge of character. Part of my job, you know – can’t make a mistake in my line, too damned dangerous.’

  It crossed my mind to tell him some of my experiences, but for the moment I decided to hold off until I’d met the lady herself. It was quite possible the encounter would bring the whole story to light pretty quickly anyway.

  Edgar tossed the remains of his cigar into the fire. ‘You do realise that Peregrine Kingsley is here because of the will, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, he told me. Couldn’t wait to tell me, actually. Bloody parasite. Given his useless financial advice, I’d be very surprised if there was anything left worth inheriting.’

  ‘Oh God, you didn’t act on anything he recommended, did you?’

  My shoulders dropped: the whole subject left me despondent. ‘Yes, to my lasting shame. He swore to me that Eastern Railroad stock was not only a sure bet, but it was going to triple within the year.’ I got up and fetched the decanter from the sideboard and topped up our glasses.

  ‘Didn’t they go bankrupt?’

  ‘They did, and took a significant amount of my money down with them.’ I swilled my drink around in the glass, then downed it in one.

  Edgar frowned. ‘Lennox how could you be so stupid? You know what Kingsley is, you’ve known how unreliable he is for years.’

  ‘Yes, of course I know. But he was just so convincing; he sent me the newspapers and the stock reports. And I wasn’t the only one, lots of people bought into it - hundreds, probably.’

  ‘But you loathe Kingsley, why on earth did you even talk to him?’

  ‘House is mortgaged, and my funds won’t cover the interest. I was being dunned quite nastily. I wrote and asked him for the name of anyone who could provide re-financing, and he put me on to the stock scheme.’

  ‘You should have asked me first!’

  ‘Couldn’t find you. You’d disappeared off on one of your trips somewhere.’ I let an exasperated sigh escape my lips. ‘I’ve never had your knack with money, Edgar. It doesn’t interest me; my eyes glaze over just thinking about it.’

  ‘No excuse, Lennox. Your side of the family were always useless with money. All grew up rich, not one of you understood a damn thing about pounds, shillings and pence. If they’d had any sense, they’d have made sure you were educated in estate management rather than waste your time sporting and hunting.’

  ‘Nobody had any sense Edgar, only your father. Ma wasn’t expected to worry about money; I doubt she even knew what it was, and Pa’s side were just as bad.’

  ‘Pops taught me finance because his family had built up the oil business, they’d had to work for it, money didn’t just fall around their ears. When they sold the company, he made sure I’d be self-reliant by tying up all of my inheritance until I produce legitimate offspring,’ Edgar laughed. ‘Totally bonkers but it’s never done me any harm. It’s rather satisfying to earn my own crust, actually.’ He looked at me, concern creasing his brow. ‘Is it so bad?’

  I poured myself another snifter and slumped back in my chair. ‘After Ma died, Pa tried to handle the funds but it just ran away, and I haven’t fared any better.’

  ‘You can always get a job. There’s more to life than hunting and fishing.’

  ‘A job doing what? I’m not travelling the world like you do, Edgar, I’m done with foreign parts. I saw more than enough of it during the War.’

  ‘No, but there’ll be something for you, Lennox. Something to turn that erratic mind of yours towards.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And I’ll buy you an abacus for Christmas; you can learn some accounting – that’ll keep you occupied.’

  ‘God forbid,’ I replied with feeling. ‘And if my resources are depleted thanks to Kingsley, just think what Uncle’s fortune has suffered. Peregrine’s been his adviser for years – managing the Melrose estate has been pretty much his sole source of income ever since I can remember.’

  ‘And how many times have we advised Uncle to get rid of Kingsley, and has he ever taken the slightest notice of anything you or I say?’

  ‘He takes notice,’ I retorted. ‘He agrees to get rid of Kingsley every time we mention it – and then carries on exactly as before.’

  Edgar nodded. ‘Look. Enough talk of finances. Christmas is coming, and we’re going to celebrate Uncle’s nuptials.’ His eyes lit up. ‘And there’s something else I wanted to tell you.’

  ‘What?’

 
‘It’s on the QT, but as you’re going to be my best man I feel I should give you due warning.’

  ‘Ha! Don’t tell me some lucky lady has got to you too! Who is it – that pretty piece you met in Madrid?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Rome?’

  ‘Not her either.’ Edgar shook his head.

  ‘The Welsh one?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Have I met her?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Just tell me, or we’ll be here all damn night.’

  ‘I will!’ Edgar grinned. ‘But remember we’re holding off the announcement until the new year – we don’t want to steal Uncle’s thunder.’

  ‘So come on, man, who is she?’

  ‘The Countess’s niece – Miss Natasha Czerina Orlakov-Palen.’

  Chapter 4

  I opened my mouth to stutter something, had second thoughts and closed it again as the door opened. We turned in our chairs by the fire, then jumped to our feet. Cooper stepped in to announce the entrance of the arrivals, began to speak, and was instantly drowned out.

  ‘Darlink!’ Countess Sophia Androvich Zerevki Polyakov exclaimed loudly, arms held wide and heading straight toward Edgar; then she stopped in her tracks when she saw me. ‘Ah, you must be the romantic one! Heat’cliff.’ She peered short-sightedly up at me. ‘So handsome!’ She turned to Uncle Charles, eclipsed at her side. ‘Darlink, you didn't told me he vas so handsome!’ She smiled widely, cheeks dimpling: a short, dynamic dumpling of a woman with dark hair in a high bun and small bright eyes - she looked like a squirrel who’s discovered all the nuts.

  ‘Ah, yes, yes, my little lambkin.’ Uncle Charles looked at her adoringly. ‘He’s a dear boy. Do you remember I told you he was in the War? Aeroplanes, you know, shot down all sorts of bad hats. I mean the Boche. Germans,’ he added in a loud whisper.

  ‘Countess.’ I bowed, a bit bemused, not to mention relieved that she didn’t seem to know me. She raised her outstretched hand to be kissed in the proper fashion. ‘Enchanted to meet you,’ I said. I was about to add congratulations upon her engagement into the family when she took me unawares and yanked me into an embrace. She barely reached my shoulders but had a bear-like grip, and at close quarters her perfume was overpowering – I’d probably stink of it all night now.