Chapter 9 – A Murder
Jen hadn’t rushed to get up and out of bed that morning as an act of rebellion. She was feeling resentful. Why should Etta be the lady and she, the maid? It seemed very unfair, all the more so because she loved period costume dramas and as a mother, she had done her fair share of waiting hand and foot on someone when Etta was young. Why should Etta be enjoying the five course dinners, the nice clothes and talking to Miss Mittens, her favourite fictional detective?
So she had dawdled over breakfast and over getting ready. Which was why when she heard the scream, she was walking to Etta’s bedroom, carrying her breakfast tray. She let go of the tray and watched the contents bounce onto the carpet and the teapot spray a brown trail down the ivory wallpaper and across the cream carpet.
Etta came out of her room in front of her.
‘Etta!’ Jen called.
Etta turned round. ‘Did you hear that?’
Jen pointed at the spillage on the carpet, ‘that’s how that happened.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘Some where up beyond your room.’
Together, they hurried towards the direction of the scream. It was a long corridor and they could see a few men and women in dressing gowns rushing ahead of them. Then they rounded the corner. They could distinguish guests from servants by their dressing gowns. All were standing outside a door and a there was a hubbub of excited voices. Just then Dennis Mowbray came out of the room and half closed the door behind him.
‘Here, I say, what’s going on?’ Algernon asked.
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’
Mr. Cook and Mrs. Wagstaff arrived from the other side. Dennis looked relieved to see them.
‘Cook, Wagstaff, could you ask the servants to go about their work please? Ladies, please return to your rooms, there is nothing to see.’
Mr. Cook and Mrs. Wagstaff tried to usher the servants away but they were reluctant to leave.
‘Has someone been badly hurt?’ Miss Mittens, who was clad in a lurid burgundy and gold tartan dressing gown, asked. ‘Have you called the doctor? Is there anyone in there with medical expertise?’
Dennis hesitated and she bustled forward. ‘I have first aid training. Perhaps I can be of assistance.’ She was past him and inside the door before he could do anything to stop her. A few moments later she came out slowly, looking solemn.
‘Who is it?’ Lady Mowbray asked.
’It’s Mrs. Spinoza. I’m afraid she’s been badly hurt.’
‘Has anyone called the doctor?’ Stewart Grenadier asked. He looked rather pale despite his tan.
‘Doctor Watson has been summoned, he should be here shortly.’
Doctor Watson? Not the Doctor Watson, Jen thought incredulously.
‘Lily, Kate, please return to your duties,’ Mrs. Wagstaff said sharply, giving Lily a little push.
She caught Jen’s eye and nodded at her. Jen realised she was meant to set an example to the junior staff and reluctantly turned away. Her mind was whirling. She believed from Miss Mitten’s looks and actions that Evangeline Spinoza was more than badly hurt, she was dead. A murder had been committed.
She had said to Etta that this was like the setting for a murder mystery. Her mind took a leap forward, it was a murder mystery. She and Etta were stuck in one. She rounded the corner and soon heard running footsteps behind her. She glanced back. It was Etta. Neither of them said anything until they were in the sanctuary of Etta’s room.
‘Poor Evangeline, I hope she’s not too badly hurt,’ said Etta.
Jen stared at her. ‘No, she’s not badly hurt.’
‘How can you know that?’
‘She’s dead, Etta.’
Etta gave a little cry. ‘You can’t know that.’
‘I may not know it for sure but I’m ninety per cent certain she is. Why else would Miss Mittens rush in, thinking she could help an injured person and then come out so quickly?’
‘Perhaps they ordered her out of the room.’
Jen snorted. ‘I don’t think they could get rid of her so easily. This is Miss Mittens, remember.’
Etta paled and sat down on the bed. ‘This is awful.’
‘It is awful. Not just for Evangeline but for us too.’
‘Why for us?’
‘Because it confirms what I told you before. We’re in a Winnifred Warlock novel.’
‘That’s impossible. How could we get into a novel?’ asked Etta.
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with the accident. Maybe we’re hallucinating; maybe it’s a dream. Or maybe it’s real.’
‘It can’t be real so we must be in a dream. And it doesn’t matter what happens in a dream, does it?’
‘I don’t know. What happens if you die in a dream?’ Jen asked in return.
‘I don’t know.’
Neither do I. But I think we had both better be careful. Can you lock your room?’
They both glanced over. There was a key in the lock.
‘Good.’
‘Can you lock yours?’ Etta asked.
‘No.’
Etta went down for breakfast.
‘That way, you can find out what’s going on,’ Jen told her.
One of the footmen showed Etta to the Breakfast Room, a sunny room overlooking the driveway. It seemed everyone was there, talking in hushed voices but once she had looked round properly, she could see that Sir James, Dennis and Lorenzo Spinoza were missing. Etta opened a number of salvers on the sideboard, helped herself to scrambled eggs and sausages and found a place at the table.
‘Terrible business,’ Miss Mittens said. ‘Tea or coffee?’
Etta wanted coffee. Miss Mittens poured it out for her.’
‘Has the doctor arrived?’
‘Yes, but he can’t do any good.’
‘So she really is dead?’
‘You worked that out, did you?’ Miss Mittens looked approvingly at her. Etta didn’t like to tell her that it was Jen who had figured it out.
‘It was her maid who found the body when she brought up her breakfast.’ Lady Mowbray was telling her aunt.
Etta wondered if her maid had dropped the tray like her mother had.
Great Aunt Josephine eyed her niece. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Is your necklace still there? She didn’t return it to you last night, did she?’
Lady Mowbray stood up, dropping her napkin. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped. ‘It had completely slipped my mind.’ She hurried out of the room.
‘I’ll lay you good money that it’s disappeared,’ predicted her great aunt cheerfully.
‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ Miss Mittens agreed, looking thoughtful.
‘How did she die? What sort of an accident was it?’ Etta asked, just then the conversation in the room had died down so it seemed as if she bellowed the question. She blushed as all eyes turned to her.
‘She fell and hit her head, blood everywhere,’ Great Aunt Josephine said baldly and with a certain enjoyment.
‘Great Aunt Josephine! Really!’ Marjorie admonished Miss Tyneham. ‘Do you have to say that over the breakfast table?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘No sense hiding from the truth.’
Etta stopped eating her sausage and put her knife and fork down. She had a vision of Evangeline Spinoza lying on the floor with her brains spread in a bloody mess around her. She felt sick.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Marjorie scolded. ‘Poor Miss Ashcroft has gone quite pale.’
‘She’s not the only one,’ Cecil said and suddenly sprang up and bolted from the room.
Stewart Grenadier was also not eating and was scowling at Miss Tyneham.
‘Hetty, are you OK?’ Dorothy asked. Her appetite was quite undiminished and she had been steadily ploughing through the eggs, bacon and mushrooms on her plate.
‘Have some toast, my dear.’ Miss Mittens proffered her a toast rack.
&nbs
p; ‘I don’t think I can eat anything.’
‘Nonsense. Some dry toast will soon settle your stomach.’
Etta tried the toast and to her surprise, Miss Mittens was correct.
‘Has the doctor been?’
‘He’s up there now,’ Marjorie Mowbray answered.
Conversation continued until Sir James came slowly into the room.
‘I’ve got something to say,’ he began. Everyone fell silent and looked at him.
‘I’m afraid that the police have been called. It looks as if Mrs. Spinoza was murdered and my wife’s diamond necklace is missing.’