‘So what are your questions, then, Emily?’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘What’s your clever-clogs brain asking?’
‘Let’s see,’ said Lady Hardcastle. She took a sip of her brandy while she pondered her response. ‘Who really sabotaged Dawkins’s motor car? It could have been Monty, but why would he do it on the track in full view of everyone? It would be much easier to snip the cable in the coach house under cover of darkness – we even found a pair of pliers kicked under the work bench. Why would they kill Viktor? Surely if he were blackmailing them, someone as resourceful as Roz could dig up some dirt on him in retaliation. It would be stalemate. Gossip is her speciality. She could scandalmonger for England if there were a World Championship.’
‘Quite aside from anything else,’ said Lady Lavinia, ‘I just can’t see either of them as villains.’
‘I’m not sure that will convince a jury,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘but I know what you mean.’
‘What about you, Armstrong?’ said Miss Titmus. ‘What questions are you asking?’
‘I’m afraid Lady Hardcastle thinks my question rather foolish and red herringy,’ I said.
‘What was it Miss Blenkinsop always used to say in History lessons, Hels?’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘“There’s no such creature as a stupid question, only stupid answers.” What are you asking, Armstrong?’
‘I’ve been asking why Herr Kovacs was so obsessed with your old school photograph,’ I said. ‘What’s so fascinating about a cricket team?’
‘He was what?’ said Lady Lavinia.
‘He had your team photograph in his room.’
‘He spent ages hogging it after dinner on Wednesday, didn’t he, Jake?’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I thought it was a bit off, to be honest. I wanted everyone to have a look.’
‘Well, we’ve added it to the growing list of questions,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do you know anything about the rivalry between Fishy and Viktor, Jake?’
‘I thought it was all very schoolboyish and friendly,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘You know what chaps are like. Edmond is just like that, only more so. He’s an overeager little boy wearing his father’s suit and pretending to be a grown-up. Their “rivalry” was more like two boys arguing over a game of conkers.’
Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘You see? Always questions, never answers.’
The conversation had drifted on to the subject of Lady Hardcastle’s latest moving picture project by the time the men joined us. Once Lord Riddlethorpe learned what we were talking about, he began to bombard her with increasingly technical questions. We were all saved from a detailed description of the workings of the latest camera by Uncle Algy loudly insisting that we join him in a game of Jean-Pierre’s Magical Vineyard.
We made it to bed by one in the morning.
Sunday passed, as Sundays do, in a dreary blur of indolence and inactivity. After leading the entire household through the pouring rain to church and back in the morning, Lord Riddlethorpe retired to his rooms. Lady Lavinia also disappeared, though I had no idea where. Miss Titmus locked herself away in the darkroom for the day, and so Lady Hardcastle borrowed her camera to take some photographs of her own.
I spent most of the day in the room I shared with Betty, alternately reading and gossiping. Betty was torn: should she do the noble thing and stay loyal to her unpleasant (and allegedly felonious) employer, or should she look to her own best interests and cut herself loose from the scandal? By bedtime, we had still reached no conclusion. Despite having seemingly done nothing all day, I was exhausted when we finally said our goodnights and snuffed out the candles.
Monday was brighter, and so was the atmosphere in the house. Breakfast was served in the dining room, and everyone managed to attend at roughly the same time. I stood in the corner as though I were serving, but I fooled no one. It was obvious that I was just hanging around, but no one seemed to object.
Lord Riddlethorpe and Lady Lavinia both announced that they had business in Leicester and would be out for the day. Harry said he would accompany Lady Lavinia ‘if that’s all right with you . . . I mean, I wouldn’t want to . . .’
His mumbly stumbling evoked laughter from his sister, and he glared at her. When Lady Lavinia patted his hand affectionately and said that it would be delightful to have his company, his embarrassment increased tenfold, and I was certain we could have toasted crumpets on his reddened cheeks.
Miss Titmus still had a little work to do in the darkroom, leaving Lady Hardcastle at something of a loose end.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I’ll only be an hour or two, then we can have lunch and plan some games for the afternoon. Do you play golf?’
‘No,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever got round to trying.’
‘I can teach you,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘It’s really jolly simple. Do you have any clubs that Emily can borrow, Jake?’
Lady Lavinia wrenched herself away from her close scrutiny of Harry’s eyes. ‘I’ll get Perrin to dig them out for you, dear,’ she said. ‘They’re not in terribly good shape, mind you.’
‘Not to worry,’ said Miss Titmus enthusiastically. ‘We’ll just be hacking about around the racing track. That’s all right, isn’t it, Fishy?’
‘What? Oh, yes. The dogs’ll help. They love to fetch golf balls.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘See you at noon for lunch and golf, Emily. Bring comfortable boots and the dogs.’
She plonked her napkin on the table and bounced out of the room. Mrs Beddows’s absence clearly agreed with her.
With her employer still in the chokey, Betty was also at a loose end, so I persuaded her to join Lady Hardcastle and me as we took a turn around the grounds after breakfast. The intention had been to loosen our limbs and build up an appetite for lunch, but we took things at far too leisurely a pace for that. We did, though, walk for miles.
The estate was vast, and we hadn’t explored half of it before Lady Hardcastle consulted her watch and declared that we ought to be making our way back to the house for lunch.
It was almost half-past twelve by the time we arrived at the terrace. Miss Titmus was sitting at the table, reading a magazine. There were two bags of golf clubs leaning against the low wall.
‘I’m so sorry we’re late, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I hadn’t realized quite how extensive Fishy’s place is. It must cover half of Rutland.’
Miss Titmus laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been keeping myself busy.’ She waved the magazine. ‘I couldn’t face a big meal, so I asked them to send up some sandwiches. I hope you don’t mind. I got Mrs R to make up some ham and piccalilli for me – it’s my absolute favourite – but I got a selection for you chaps, just in case.’