‘Ah,’ she said timidly. ‘Hello everyone. I wonder . . .’
‘What ho, Betty,’ I said. ‘Come to cadge some lunch for Mrs Beddows?’
‘Why, yes, actually. How did you . . . ?’
‘We’re all at it,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to get something for Lady Hardcastle and Miss Titmus. They’re having a picnic on the lawn. You should get Mrs Beddows to join them – it would save you a fair bit of mucking about. One lunch, and two of us to carry it.’
‘I don’t think she’d want that,’ she said nervously. ‘She’s . . . ah . . . She’s indisposed.’
‘Righto,’ I said. ‘Can we leave it all in your hands, then, Patty? We’ll be back in a few moments to gather our fancy fare and get out of your . . . hair. Come on, Betty, let’s leave these good ladies to it.’
Without waiting for a response, I took Betty by the elbow and led her out into the servants’ hall. It was busy, but that was all to the good. It meant that there was enough going on to cover a private conversation. I indicated that we should sit at one end of the long table, and poured us both a cup of tea from the ever-present pot.
‘What’s the matter, fach?’ I said. ‘You don’t seem your usual happy-go-lucky self. Is it the murder? It can be unsettling, I know, but Inspector Foister will get to the bottom of it. We’re in no danger.’
‘Are you sure about that? You’re not working for a murderer.’
I found myself unable to respond immediately. I stared at her for a moment with my mouth hanging gormlessly open. After a lengthy pause, I gathered myself together enough to say, ‘Mrs Beddows?’ Not my finest hour as an amateur sleuth.
Betty nodded.
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked as my wits returned.
‘She killed Mr Kovacs,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Why are you sure?’
‘She wasn’t in her room all night, and now she’s in a terrible state. It must be her.’
‘Is that what you told the inspector?’ I asked.
‘No, I . . .’
‘You’re not as sure as all that, then,’ I suggested.
‘What else can it be, though? She did him in; she must have.’
‘I thought you said she’d been “on manoeuvres” before. Perhaps she accidentally stayed too long. I confess I thought she might be seeing Herr Kovacs, but I take it I was wrong.’
It was her turn to look dumbfounded. ‘Mr Kovacs?’ she said, almost laughing. ‘She’s been carrying on with Mr Waterford. For months. I thought everyone knew.’
‘Not me,’ I said. ‘Nor Lady Hardcastle. We’re new to your set, remember. Does her husband know?’
‘He ignores it for the sake of propriety. And so that he can conduct affairs of his own. Theirs is a “marriage of convenience”, I think they call it. She wants his status, he wants her money. As long as neither of them causes a scandal, they just get on with their own lives. Their home is a miserable place for the most part, but she and I are seldom there, so it’s not too bad.’
‘How thoroughly awful. But how do you know she wasn’t with Mr Waterford last night? Isn’t that where she’s been every night?’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Oh my goodness. What if they’re in it together?’
‘I still don’t understand why you think she had anything to do with the murder of Herr Kovacs, though.’
‘Was there a lot of blood?’ she said.
I didn’t want to get too deeply into the grisly details. Some people imagine themselves to be fascinated, but become surprisingly squeamish once you get down to blood-soaked brass tacks. ‘A fair amount,’ I said as blandly as I could.
‘So the murderer would likely have got some on their clothes?’
‘I should say that was inevitable,’ I said.
‘Mrs Beddows is fastidious about her wardrobe. Everything has to be just so. The right clothes for the right occasion. She has indoor clothes, outdoor clothes, sports clothes, evening clothes, lunchtime clothes—’
‘They all do that,’ I said.
‘I know. She’s very fond of a tweed skirt and jacket she bought this season for outdoors.’
‘I’ve seen her in them. She looks very smart.’
‘They’re missing,’ she said.
Chapter Thirteen
Betty helped me carry the impromptu picnic out on to the lawn, and then disappeared to sort out her own mistress’s refection.
‘You’re a living marvel, Flo,’ said Lady Hardcastle as I helped them both to sandwiches and wine.
‘You really are,’ said Miss Titmus.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘One tries one’s best. Will there be anything else, my lady?’
‘No, I think you’ve met our every need and anticipated our every desire,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Thank you. In that case, I shall leave you to your nattering.’
‘Stay and eat with us, you goose,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Please don’t leave on my account. I know you two spend a lot of time in each other’s company. I should hate to think you were having to behave any differently because of me. You’re away from home in a gorgeous country house – you should be having fun. Both of you.’
‘You’re very kind, miss,’ I said. I sat on the rug and helped myself to a sandwich.
‘Helen and I were talking about photography again, I’m afraid,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Did you know they’ve got a darkroom here? It was one of Fishy’s Fancies so it’s not used any more, except when Helen’s here.’
‘I had no idea. I’ve not really had many excuses to wander the main house.’
‘The old snooping skills are fading,’ she said. ‘But it means we’ll be able to see her photographs before we go.’
‘How wonderful.’
‘I was planning to get in there today,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘But what with all the ghastliness, it didn’t seem right somehow. You know, to be doing normal things.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Lady Hardcastle kindly.
‘It’s so upsettingly horrid. Who could have done such a thing?’
‘I’m sure the police will catch him.’
‘It must be someone from the town,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘It must be. Otherwise it’s someone in the house, and that would be too, too, horrid. Too horrid for words.’
‘I don’t think we’re in any danger, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It all seems to have something to do with Fishy’s motor cars. And we have nothing to do with Fishy’s motor cars.’
‘I suppose not. You two didn’t get to race, did you? Nor Roz and Jake. Let’s hope that means the girls will be safe. Oh, but . . .’
‘But what, dear?’
Miss Titmus looked around almost furtively. ‘That thing I was telling you about earlier. You know . . . Roz.’
‘Oh,’ said Lady Hardcastle slowly as the penny dropped. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that does rather . . .’
I smiled. ‘I wouldn’t ordinarily be quite this indiscreet,’ I said, ‘but I think I might be able to cut down on the number of unfinished sentences here if I reveal that I know about Mrs Beddows and Mr Waterford.’
They both laughed.
‘We try to pretend that the servants never know what goes on,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘But we’re only fooling ourselves.’
‘You could have told me sooner,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘How long have you known?’