“Oh, I don’t know … Miss Joliffe is of an artistic family with many friends at—shall we say?—the business end of the art world. They actually apply paint to canvas. I dare say she was able to give Miss Despond insights into Pablo Picasso’s philosophy of art—she is reputed to own one or two of his early works. I noticed the two ladies chose to walk arm in arm into the hall in a companionable way.”
“Mmm … Whatever else, you seem to understand that Dorcas Joliffe is not stupid. I know she has plans of her own for James, plans in which a wealthy rival does not feature. A dangerous little creature! It may suit her well to snuggle in close with a challenger. Shall I ask Styles to mount a guard over Miss Despond while she’s under our roof?”
“Leave it to me. Bodyguarding is something I’m trained for, your ladyship,” Joe said. “The first thing is to plan ahead—never wait for the exchange of fire. Go straight for the enemy as soon as identified, disarm and incapacitate him. I’ll go and renew acquaintance with Miss Joliffe—we have met before on a few occasions. I’ll try to ascertain whether her intentions are peaceable.”
He drifted into the hall where the guests were being allocated footmen and maids to take them to their rooms. Stepping forward, he said, “Thank you, Norman, I’ll take Miss Joliffe upstairs. The Lilac Room was it?”
He grabbed Dorcas’s bag and led the way upstairs to the guest room halfway along the corridor.
“Rather more suitable accommodation than last time, I think you’ll find,” he said, showing her inside and closing the door. “Smaller than the Old Nursery and not so versatile but I’m sure you won’t mind that.” She kept her distance, white-faced and silent. Joe put up an ironic hand, as if to ward off an advance. “No, don’t consider giving me a hug, Dorcas. Apart from Truelove, who treats me as your godfather or something—well, he thinks whatever you’ve told him to think—it’s not generally known that we have a relationship of any kind. Let it stay that way. I’m working. Trying to solve three unlawful killings for one of which you are in the frame. Yes, I’m afraid there are those in this house who would very much like to put the blame for the death of Lady Truelove on you. They see you as an unimportant figure, unconnected and dispensable. They wait to see you being carted off by me to the Yard in cuffs, the arrest photographed by a news magnate who has a convenient camera to hand and a convenient hand to operate it. You may have caught a glimpse of the McIvers’ maid photographing the horse parade? Avoid her lens. Mungo McIver, I believe, is intent on reinstating the reputation of the Minister for Reform in the corridors of Westminster.”
“Westminster?” she asked sharply.
“The House. Where a strong cross-party faction sees him as the saviour of British politics. The only man with the will and ability to recognise and counter the threat of European aggression. He’s a man whose reputation must be protected at all cost.”
“A man particularly popular with a coterie of industrialists in the Midlands whose factories are poised to roll out ever more armament, I think you once told me, Joe. Did you know that’s how Lavinia’s father makes his millions? He provided the wherewithal to take on the Kaiser in the last lot. If Herr Hitler or the Russians were to turn nasty, he’d be a very busy man again.”
“It had occurred to me. Poor, generous old Papa must be a little exercised by the rumours that his son-in-law has bumped off his daughter. I do wonder what his next step might be? Denunciation? Or support and a swift crushing of the rumours by some means or other? Move an innocent pawn into the front line to take the rap? I won’t let that happen! Tread carefully, Dorcas. Better if we keep our distance from each other, and don’t give them an opportunity to cry collusion, I think.”
“Joe! Supercilious know-it-all! I don’t need your collusion, thanks! I had nothing to do with that woman’s self-inflicted death, neither did James and that’s what I’m doing back here. I’ve come to help him prove it!”
“I wonder what persuasive measures he employed to convince you it would be a good idea to revisit the scene of the crime? What did he offer you, Dorcas?” Joe’s voice was heavy with hurt and suspicion.
“You don’t imagine I want to be here, do you? I’ve heard the rumours circulating against James. They’ve been orchestrated, you know. You’ve got that much right. Someone wants James discredited or even behind bars. Someone may even have arranged Lavinia’s death solely for that purpose. Smacked her on the head with a horseshoe? It would have been easy enough to arrange. I could have done it myself. I’m grieved for James—none of it was his fault and he’s got troubles enough without all this sinister back-stabbing.”
“So—you’re here to do a little clearing of names? Sleuthing again, Dorcas?” Joe was relieved and almost amused.
“Not any longer apparently! I hadn’t expected to find Scotland Yard in residence! You know your presence here confirms everyone’s darkest suspicions? A policeman of your standing doesn’t turn up to investigate an accident. You’ve muddied the waters and now, with people on their guard, I shall never get at the truth. James’s wife was hateful and she’s made poor James’s life a misery. She lived in a slough of unhappiness and was determined that everyone close to her should join her in it. I’m glad she’s dead.” She concluded her tirade with a defiant, “We’re glad she’s dead.”
“I could wish you hadn’t lied to me about your part in all this,” he said stiffly.
“So do I. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to tell you I was miles away at the time—you always find things out. I was here that night. We thought the least fuss, the soonest mended. No point in involving others. After all—it was her choice to confront the horse. A thoughtless, suicidally idiotic thing to do. She knew the animal was dangerous, Joe. She took me on a hike round the estate the day before.” Dorcas cringed at the memory. “We inspected the stables but didn’t go near—what was his name?”
“Lucifer.”
“She told me he’d almost killed two of the grooms and was about to be put down by the vet. A huge waste of money, Lavinia reckoned. I asked her how many guineas. No idea! She knew nothing of the cost of things—just assumed she was paying the bills. James was to blame, of course, as the stallion had been his selection. But she intended to save him from his folly.”
She fell silent, seemingly wondering if she had said too much.
Joe kept her focussed, sure that he was getting close to whatever had triggered the unlikely death. “How did she propose to do that? Tell me exactly, Dorcas.”
“She claimed she had the skill to tame the brute. ‘I’ll have him eating out of my hand and following me about like Mary’s little lamb, you’ll see!’ she bragged. Then, sneakily, she slipped in the suggestion she’d been working towards. Her real plan. ‘Unless, of course, Dorcas, you’d like to have the honour? Here’s a wonderful chance to show off those skills with animals everyone—including James—claims that you have. I dare you, Dorcas Joliffe, to parade the stallion in front of the breakfast crowd tomorrow morning, trotting at your heels like a good hound. I dare you!’ She said the words again!”
Joe grimaced, picturing Dorcas’s embarrassment at the juvenile challenge. “Lord! What on earth did you say?”
“I’m afraid I made a bad situation worse. I spoke my mind. I said the last dare I accepted had been twelve years ago. It had resulted in a smacked bottom and a week’s gating from my grandmother. A punishment which vastly outweighed the offence. But it taught me a useful lesson. Dares are set by callous schemers to trap the naive. I told her to grow up.”
“Thus sealing the wretched woman’s fate.” Joe sighed.
“Don’t be silly! She sealed her own fate! Are you deliberately missing the point? It was she who planned my death or injury. I thought you’d have managed to work that much out! She was setting me up for a lethal encounter with that animal.”