Lord Riddlethorpe steered the conversation in a fresh direction. ‘While we’re all here,’ he said, ‘I wonder if I might impose on you a little. It’s to do with the, ah . . .’
‘The elephant at the dining table?’ suggested Mr Waterford.
‘She’s just big boned,’ said Mrs Beddows, gesturing towards Miss Titmus.
Lord Riddlethorpe ignored her. ‘Inspector Foister telephoned me this morning. There have been some . . . Let me see, what did he say? . . . Ah, yes, that’s it, some “administrative delays” in the matter of poor Ellis Dawkins, and the inquest can’t be held until late next week. We’ll all be called as witnesses, of course. You’re all welcome to stay, if you can. It would be a great help to me if you were able to – I should like to settle things as soon as we’re able.’
There were murmurs of assent.
‘We must get our stories straight,’ said Herr Kovacs.
‘Our stories?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘We don’t need stories, Viktor. We simply tell the truth.’
‘There will be a scandal if you don’t watch out. You know how the newspapers . . . What is the word? . . . Misrepresent? Yes, misrepresent, I think. You know how the newspapers misrepresent stories involving the aristocracy. You have your deference and your social rules, but you do not always have the respect of your newspapers. They will make much of this.’
‘We have nothing to hide. The police are treating it as an accident, so they’ll not ask about the crash,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘As far as Foister is concerned, Dawkins lost control on a bend and hit a tree.’
‘But it wasn’t an accident, Fishy, was it?’ said Miss Titmus anxiously. ‘Morgan said the brake cable had been cut. Emily’s looking into it for you. Everyone in the house knows. We’re all going to be in terrible trouble.’
‘She’s right,’ said Mr Waterford. ‘If we tell the truth, we’ll have to mention the sabotage, and then the scandal would be unavoidable. Someone sabotaged that motor car.’
‘No one will lie,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe sternly. ‘If they ask, we shall tell them what we know, and let the cards fall where they may.’
Herr Kovacs narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
The lunch party broke up quickly after that. Everyone headed back to their rooms to change, but Lord Riddlethorpe hung back. He took Lady Hardcastle to one side, and she signalled for me to join them.
Lord Riddlethorpe was already speaking as I arrived. ‘. . . how you were getting on. You know, with your “investigations”, as it were.’
‘We’re still getting the lie of the land, to be honest, Fishy, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s still early days.’
‘Early days?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, clearly trying to suppress his frustration.
‘It’s only forty-eight hours since the crash, dear,’ she said equably. ‘But a picture is beginning to form, wouldn’t you agree, Armstrong?’
‘Certainly, my lady,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to take out my frustrations on you. What sort of picture is forming?’
Lady Hardcastle outlined our suppositions about the chain of events leading to the sabotage. Lord Riddlethorpe pursed his lips as he listened.
‘So the timing doesn’t particularly rule anyone out,’ he said when she had finished.
‘Not really, no,’ she said. ‘But Armstrong has come upon some information that might rule at least one person in. Possibly two.’
He looked at me expectantly.
‘How well do you know Herr Kovacs, my lord?’ I said.
‘I’ve been acquainted with him for a few years now. Decent enough chap. Surely you don’t suspect him?’
Without mentioning Evan’s involvement, I explained that we’d seen a copy of Herr Kovacs’s draft letter offering to buy the racing team. I also recounted the conversation between Herr Kovacs and Mr Waterford, as though I had been the one who overheard it.
Lord Riddlethorpe thought for a moment. ‘Just good business,’ he said eventually. ‘He knows the motors are top notch. He’s seen a chance to acquire them at a knock-down price, that’s all. Sound move. I’d do the same.’ The words sounded sincere enough, but something in his manner suggested that he, too, had suspicions about Herr Kovacs.
Mrs Ruddle, the cook, and Patty, her kitchen maid, were already hard at work on preparations for dinner when I brought in the last of the plates from the terrace.
‘. . . but if you drizzle the melted butter, it doesn’t split,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
I put the tray of plates beside the sink.
‘Hello, Miss Armstrong,’ said Patty.
‘Hello, Patty,’ I said. ‘How are things in the most important room in the house?’
The young kitchen maid laughed delightedly.
‘It’s always nice when the other staff appreciate us, my dear,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
‘Everyone always appreciates the cook, Mrs Ruddle,’ I said. ‘And if she’s as accomplished as you . . . well . . .’
The older woman beamed.
‘Have you worked here long?’ I asked.
‘Comin’ on forty years,’ she said proudly. ‘I were younger than little Patty here when I started. I didn’t know a Béarnaise from a brisket.’
‘So you’ve known his lordship since he was born?’
‘You could say as I built him into the man he is today,’ she said. ‘Feedin’ him up, like. Course, they sent him away to school, so I didn’t get a chance to look after him quite as I’d-a liked. Him and Lady Lavinia both. I never did understand that. Nothin’ in the world more joyous than havin’ little-uns about the place, and they send ’em away as soon as they can.’
‘Lady Hardcastle would have given anything to go to school,’ I said. ‘She always says she was terribly jealous of her brother.’
‘It’s an adventure for them, I suppose,’ she said grudgingly. ‘But it still doesn’t seem right. If there’d ever been a Mr Ruddle, I’d-a liked to think we’d-a made a home for our children as they’d not want to get away from so quick, like.’
‘Was there ever a candidate?’ I asked.
She laughed. ‘For Mr Ruddle? I don’t reckon as anyone would pay attention to an old lump like me.’
Patty looked up from her chopping. ‘Rubbish, Mrs R, they’d be lucky to have you.’
‘And look here, see?’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘I’ve got a kid to be lookin’ after as it is. My life’s not worked out so bad. But now we’ve got to talkin’ about school, I do wish I’d had a bit of schoolin’. I learned to read and write from Mr Selvester – he was the butler here when I was a scullery maid. He taught all us youngsters. Said it would “stand us in good stead”. He was a martinet, mind you. Nasty, nasty man. I reckon he only taught us so we’d know which Bible verse we were disobeyin’. But he done us all a favour. I wouldn’t be where I am if I couldn’t read a recipe. How about you, my dear? Did you get any schoolin’?’
I paused for a moment. I usually didn’t mind sharing my life story, but I had rather hoped to find out a little more about Lady Lavinia and her friends. Still, it looked as though that ship had sailed, so I decided to go along with it. Perhaps I could bring the subject back to her ladyship later. ‘A little,’ I said. ‘I grew up in a circus—’