Eight
If a gold ring sticks tight on the finger, and cannot easily be removed, touch it with mercury, and it will become so brittle that a single blow will break it.
– The Housekeeper’s Receipt Book, 1813
At last the long wake was over and the castle fell silent again, apart from the screeching of the wind, for the fine weather had broken and ragged clouds streamed in from the sea. The air was noisy, not only with the shriek of the wind but with the sound of the waves pounding against the cliffs.
To Daisy’s distress, Harry had sent a telegram to say that he had decided to go on to London with Madame Bailloux but would return shortly.
“Is it so bad working for him?” asked Rose.
“No, it is just that having been your companion, I feel I have now sunk in the ranks. I am a housekeeper, admittedly with light duties. The captain expects Becket to work long hours. He should not have taken him all the way to London. I see you are still wearing your engagement ring on a chain round your neck. Do you keep it there in the hope that the captain will put it back on your finger?”
Rose flushed. “It is an expensive ring and I do not want to risk losing it.” She lifted the chain from around her neck, took off the ring and put it on her finger, admiring the way the diamonds flashed in the light of the oil lamp on a table behind her.
Rose sighed and then tugged at the ring. “It won’t come off, Daisy. It was always rather tight.”
They worked on it with soap and then with oil, but the ring stubbornly refused to move. “You could put a bit of mercury on it and then break it,” suggested Daisy.
“I cannot do that! I’ll just need to wear it. Yes, Hunter, what is it?”
“The dressing gong has sounded,” said the lady’s maid.
“Oh dear,” sighed Rose. “I am so tired of having to change my clothes six times a day, but Aunt Elizabeth, despite her eccentricity, is a stickler for the conventions. Choose one of the velvets, Hunter, and a shawl. The castle has become so cold.”
Dinner was a silent affair. Aunt Elizabeth had periods when she did not feel like talking at all and did not welcome conversation from anyone else.
At least the wind was blowing in the right direction and the great fire kept the room warm.
As the first course was served, Rose felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She looked around. Aunt Elizabeth had not hired another butler, and three footmen were on duty to serve the dinner. Rose saw one she had not seen before. He was a youngish man, tall and thin, with a white face, dusty fair hair and blue eyes.
She waited impatiently until they had retired to the drawing room and asked her hostess, “Who is the new footman?”
“Just some English lad who came looking for work. He has excellent references. He worked for the Countess of Sutherland before this, but his mother in Dunoon fell ill and died, and when he returned to work it was to find he had been replaced.”
“I do not know why,” said Rose, “but he makes me feel uneasy.”
“Now, listen to me,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Young gels are apt to exaggerate. I am sure you lost your footing and fell in the Seine.”
“What about the note?”
“Oh, that. Probably some prankster.”
“Aunt Elizabeth, two women have been murdered!”
“But what kind of women, hey? Tarts, that’s what. And that sort of creature is always getting into trouble.”
Rose opened her mouth to argue further, but then decided against it. She feared Aunt Elizabeth might become angry and send her away.
♦
That night, she tossed and turned, wishing the shrieking wind would abate. She wondered about that new footman. He wasn’t exactly young, perhaps in his early thirties. But Aunt Elizabeth had said he had good references. If only Harry would return.
She remembered there was a bookcase in the drawing room. The castle did not boast a library. Perhaps it might be a good idea to read herself to sleep. She got out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown, lit her bed candle and went out into the corridor and down the stairs. She began to experience that earlier feeling of unease. Her candle threw great shadows up on the stone walls as the flame streamed in the draught. The fire was still lit in the drawing room. The sound of the wind was less than it was upstairs. She lit an oil lamp, chose a copy of an old favourite, The Master of Ballantrae, and settled down in an armchair by the fire to read. After an hour, her eyelids began to droop. She closed the book, extinguished the oil lamp, lit her bed candle again and made her way back upstairs.
When she went into her room, she stiffened. There was a foreign smell in it, a smell of sweat. Rose hurried to Daisy’s room and woke her up.
“I want you to come with me, Daisy. I went downstairs to the drawing room to read and while I was away, I think someone entered my room.”
“Don’t worry. I’m coming.” Daisy got out of bed and picked up a brass poker from the fireplace.
They lit all the lamps in Rose’s room and looked around. “What made you think someone had been in here?” asked Daisy.
“There was the smell of sweat.”
“Can’t smell anything. Why would anyone come into your room?”
“I’m worried about that new footman. Remember how those letters were hidden in my luggage? Perhaps someone has tried to hide something incriminating.”
Daisy stifled a yawn. “All the trunks and hatboxes are down in the storage room.”
“Think, Daisy. If you wanted to hide something, where would you put it?”
“In the wardrobe there, among your clothes. What about your jewel box?”
“It’s locked and Hunter has the key.”
Daisy longed to go back to bed, but Rose looked so frightened that she said, “I’ll look in the wardrobe and you look under your pillows and places like that.”
“Nothing here,” said Daisy after awhile.
“Try the pockets. Oh, let me.”
Rose searched feverishly through the pockets of various costumes and coats. She came to an old tweed coat she often wore when she was walking along the cliffs and plunged her hand into the pocket. Her fingers encountered something hard and smooth. She pulled it out. “Look at this, Daisy!”
It was a necklace of black pearls, smooth and heavy.
“Isn’t it yours?”
“No. Oh, Daisy, what if it belonged to Dolores? I remember they said certain items of her jewellery had been stolen. Don’t you see? Someone is trying to implicate me in the murder again. I’m sure it’s that footman. I’d better rouse Aunt Elizabeth.”
Aunt Elizabeth was annoyed at being awakened. At first she tried to persuade Rose that it was merely a piece of jewellery she had forgotten about but Rose had pointed out that no woman could forget the possession of a genuine black pearl necklace.
“I am sure it’s something to do with that new footman,” she said. “Please, please rouse the servants and have him brought here. The police will need to be called.”
“Very well. Anything so that we may get back to sleep.” Aunt Elizabeth pulled on the bell rope beside her bed. The first to arrive was her lady’s maid, Queen.
“Rouse all the servants from their beds and bring them down to the drawing room,” ordered Aunt Elizabeth.
They waited until all the servants in various stages of undress had gathered. “Now,” began Aunt Elizabeth, “did one of you put a pearl necklace in the pocket of a coat in Lady Rose’s wardrobe?”
The head footman, Jamie, stepped forward and said crossly, “We’ve all been in our beds, my lady.”
“Where’s that new footman, what’s-his-name?”
“Charlie. He’s here. Step forward, Charlie.”
But Charlie, who had been standing at the back of the group, had disappeared.