Murder At Walgrove Manor

Winifred was enjoying the house party – until the unthinkable happened . . .

WINIFRED MELVERTON screamed, dropping the suit of armour’s visor with a clang. She stepped back, trembling, as pale as the lilies in Lady Millicent Walgrove’s gardens.

“I say, whatever’s the matter?” Percy Haverstock stuck his handsome face around the door. Winifred shuddered. “The suit of armour,” she said, pointing at it with a shaking finger. “There’s somebody in it.”

“Are you sure?” Percy moved into the room, dapper in his suit and Oxford brogues.

“I mean, I know they’re rather life-like, but . . .”

He stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on the knight’s right arm. A human hand clearly hung from the gap where the iron gauntlet should have been.

“Gosh,” he said, the colour draining from his cheeks. “Who is it? What are they doing in there?” Winifred frowned. “Whoever it is, I believe they are dead,” she announced shakily.

Percy took a deep breath and lifted the visor himself.

“By George,” he said, after a moment. “It looks like Doctor Lambton. And I think you may be right.”

“How horrible. And at Christmas time, too.” Winifred shuddered again. “How on earth did he end up in there?”

Percy shook his head. “Someone must have put him there,” he replied.

“Put him there? Then he’s been murdered.” Winifred nodded.

“I shall telephone for the police.”

Later that afternoon, the residents of Walgrove Manor assembled in the drawing-room for afternoon tea, all except Lady Millicent, who had retired to her room with a headache.

Lady Millicent and Sir Roland had two children. In Winifred’s opinion, Edwin, the elder, was rather self-absorbed.

His younger sister, Blanche, clearly had a crush on Percy. Winifred imagined Blanche was the reason Percy had been given an invitation to Christmas.

The family had five house guests this year – herself and her aunt Lavinia, who had been at school with Lady Millicent; Percy, whose family were close friends who owned the adjacent property; and a Mr Cyril Warmslow and his daughter, Ada.

Mr Warmslow was a friend of Sir Roland’s, whom he’d met a couple of years before at his London club. They had formed a friendship based on their shared experience of the Boer War.

Mr Warmslow was a taciturn man, perhaps because of his experiences. The poor fellow had horrible facial disfigurement from his injuries.

His daughter Ada, on the other hand, was a beauty.

“Cucumber sandwich?” Winifred’s reverie was broken by Percy, who was smiling down at her.

“Thank you,” she replied, peeking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

As she hoped, he sat down beside her.

“Devilish sorry you had to find the body and all that. Hope you’re feeling OK.”

“Of course it was a horrid shock, but I’m fine now. That poor man!”

Percy nodded gravely. “Dreadful business. Stabbed with a dagger from that very room.”

“Why does Sir Roland keep so many weapons about the place?”

“He was bound to collect a few. Been in the Army most of his life – Boer War, the Great War. But a murderer will find some way to carry out his plan.”

“But why the doctor? And what was he doing here?”

“Doctor Lambton was an

old friend of the family. He came most days to check on Lady Millicent.”

“Is she unwell?” He lowered his voice. “She thinks she is, but she’s tough as old boots, if you ask me. She takes some kind of tablet every day, though.”

Winifred felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see an annoyed expression on the wide face of her aunt Lavinia.

“Don’t monopolise Mr Haverstock, dear,” she said in a commanding voice. “I’m sure he’d like to talk to the others. Why don’t you go and converse with dear Edwin?”

Winifred sighed and rose to her feet. She knew very well why Aunt Lavinia wanted her to talk to “dear Edwin”, and she was not at all inclined to do so.

She very much doubted that Edwin would welcome the attention, either.

He was seated by the Art Deco fireplace chatting to Ada, who looked ravishing in her drop-waist dress and T-bar shoes, dark kiss curls framing her delicate face. Edwin wore an absorbed expression.

Winifred instead took a seat next to Cyril, Ada’s father, and listened to Edwin’s conversation.

“Don’t be upset, Ada,” he said. “You are quite safe.”

Ada looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sure you’re right, but the murderer . . .” She shivered. “I do wish they’d caught him.”

“Perhaps they have. There was no sign of a break-in, and none of us is responsible, so it must be a servant. They’re questioning Harding now.”

Cyril looked up sharply. “They think it’s the butler?”

Edwin nodded. “Mother’s taken it hard. He’s been with her since she married.”

“Poor Lady Millicent. She was already distraught about Doctor Lambton.”

“Bound to be a shock,” Cyril acknowledged. “She’s known him since they were knee-high. Both attended St Cuthbert’s, I believe.”

Ada stared at her father and he lapsed into silence.

“Why do they think it’s Harding?” she asked Edwin.

“To tell the truth, he’s not the most reliable man. Partial to Father’s claret, and has been known to pocket the odd valuable.

“Mother’s always turned a blind eye – says he’s a good butler and it’s hard to find staff since the war.”

“Why does that make him a murderer?”

Edwin glanced at Winifred, as if surprised to see her there.

“Oh, Miss Melverton. Well, the doctor knew about it all, and had tried to persuade Mother to sack him. They think he caught Harding stealing something more valuable this time. They must have argued and one thing led to another.”

Winifred was hunting for writing paper the next morning when she heard raised voices next door. Ada and her father were having an argument.

She was surprised; they seemed devoted to one another. Yet today something had clearly disturbed them.

She thought she heard Edwin’s name, but she was not one to eavesdrop.

Finding her things, she made her way downstairs and settled at the large leather-topped desk in the corner of the drawing-room.

Aunt Lavinia had suggested a trip into town this afternoon. Winifred was wondering whether she could find a pretext to invite Percy along when Ada entered and sat down on the chaise longue, clutching a handkerchief.

The poor girl looked miserable.

“My dear Miss Warmslow, are you quite well? Can I get you anything?”

Ada dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, Miss Melverton, you startled me. Thank you, yes, I am quite well.” She paused. “I have had a small misunderstanding with Father, that is all.” Winifred sat beside her. “Parents can be quite a trial, can’t they?” she said. Ada shook her head. “I suppose that’s why I’m upset. Usually, Father and I are close. My mother died when I was very young.”

“That must have been difficult.”

Ada nodded.

“We don’t need to talk about her, if you’d rather not.” Winifred patted the girl’s hand. “Shall I call for some tea instead?”

“No, thank you. Actually, it’s a relief to tell someone about her. Father doesn’t mention her much. He adored her, and lost her in – difficult circumstances.”

She looked around, checking no-one else was there, then pulled a locket from beneath her dress, opening it to show Winifred the picture inside.

“Oh, she was beautiful,” Winifred said. “You are very like her.”

Ada’s eyes filled. “Thank you, she was –” Suddenly there was a tremendous uproar in the hallway outside.

“Are you out of your minds? How dare you?” Lady Millicent’s shrill voice rose above the hubbub. “Edwin, do something!”

Percy burst into the room, his face red.

“Are you girls all right? Thought I’d get out of the way. Terrible rumpus.” “What’s going on?” “They’re questioning

Sir Roland.”

Ada gasped. “Whatever for?” Winifred demanded.

He looked from one to the other.

It was a frosty morning, and a pale sun shone through the sash windows, glinting on Ada’s beads and Mary-jane shoes.

Her locket had disappeared from view. Percy cleared his throat. “It’s complicated, but apparently, when they were young, Doctor Lambton was in love with Lady Millicent and wanted to marry her.”

“Well, that was years ago,” Ada said.

“Yes, but here’s the thing: it turns out he was still in love with her. That’s why he came here all the time. She didn’t mind; she liked the adoration, and he took good care of her health.”

“I thought you said there was nothing wrong with her?” Winifred asked. “Exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘exactly’?”

“I mean Sir Roland discovered exactly that. The pills he’s been paying through the nose for all these years are sugar pills.” Winifred turned pale. “So, Doctor Lambton had been visiting his wife under false pretences all this time, and charging him a small fortune for the privilege?”

“Precisely. Jolly shocking, and Sir Roland intended to confront him about it.”

Dr Lambton had been in love with Lady Millicent for years

That evening, Winifred was happy. Percy had requested to join their trip into town, and they had had a splendid afternoon together. He had taken them to tea at Partridge’s, where they had eaten cake and listened to the orchestra.

Now he was sitting beside Winifred at the dinner table, and it was all rather delightful. The fire was blazing, and the portraits in the room were decked with holly and ivy. If not for the murder, Winifred decided, it was set to be a marvellous Christmas.

Blanche sat opposite them in a tight-fitting Lanvin gown, doing her best to attract Percy’s attention. Her blonde hair was adorned with a stunning diamond and feather headband, and her lips were painted scarlet.

However, Percy paid her little heed.

“Outrageous!” Lady Millicent’s querulous tones rose above the hum of conversation. She had drunk several sherries to calm her nerves, but they hadn’t improved her mood.

“Such accusations! And in our own home, too!”

“The inspector was

only doing his job, my dear. No harm done, and they’ve released Harding. That should make you happy.”

Lady Millicent frowned. “But it’s not good enough. I –”

She was interrupted by the opening of the diningroom door. The inspector entered. He was a thin man with a serious expression.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid I must ask Sir Roland to accompany me to the station.”

Sir Roland flung down his napkin and rose to his feet.

“Whatever for, man? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of dinner?”

“You are under arrest, sir, for the murder of Doctor Wilfred Lambton.”

For a moment there was silence, then the smashing of glass as Lady Millicent dropped her champagne and fainted clean away.

An hour or two later, order had been restored.

Lady Millicent had been conveyed to her room, and Blanche was attending her.

The others had eaten in silence, and were now in the drawing-room.

Edwin and Ada were talking earnestly by the Christmas tree. The others sat round the fire.

Aunt Lavinia consoled herself with a glass of Madeira and a box of chocolates, while Winifred and Percy discussed the events of the evening.

“Harding has an alibi. He was with Cook at the time of the murder, and the maid, Enid, confirmed it.” Winifred nodded. “That doesn’t make Sir Roland guilty, though.”

“No,” Percy agreed. “Dash it all, I can’t believe the old fellow’s responsible. Anyway, wasn’t he with you, Mr Warmslow?”

Cyril looked up, his face impassive.

“I regret to say I only spent part of the afternoon with Roland. As I told the police, we finished our game of billiards and had a brandy. Then I left him and went to find Ada.”

“Gosh,” Winifred said, after a moment. “He had motive and opportunity.”

“I don’t believe it. I’ve known him all my life. He’s a decent chap . . .”

Mr Warmslow’s face hardened.

“One doesn’t always know of what someone is capable.”

Winifred and Percy glanced at one another. He cleared his throat. “The war, you know. Does strange things to a man. The Battle of Ladysmith, for example. Ghastly affair.” Aunt Lavinia looked up. “Utter nonsense,” she announced. “Sir Roland is incapable of such behaviour. Besides, you told us that you fought in different regiments, so you weren’t at Ladysmith.”

Mr Warmslow rose to his feet, his face red.

“Indeed, madam. But I have heard Roland speak of it, and I know enough of war.”

He moved away to fill his glass, his eyes fixed on his daughter and Edwin.

Winifred was drinking tea in the breakfast room next day when Percy entered. He looked more handsome than ever in a sweater that matched his eyes.

“Morning, Winnie. I hope you slept well. It’s been a frightful couple of days.”

“Yes, thank you. But poor Sir Roland, locked in a cell all night!”

Percy nodded. “Shocking turn of events. But I hope it won’t affect your plans to stay?” Percy turned a little red.

“No.” Winifred smiled. “Aunt Lavinia is determined to support Lady Millicent until justice is done.”

“Good. I mean, good your holiday won’t be cut short.” Winifred smiled again. “Let me get you tea.” She moved over to the sideboard and almost dropped the pot. A photograph had caught her eye, and she picked it up and stared at it.

“I say, are you all right? You look rather pale.”

When she didn’t reply, Percy came and stood beside her.

“What’s this?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“That? It’s just Sir Roland and Lady Millicent with a couple of chums and their wives, before the Boer War.” He gave her a concerned look. “Do you want to sit down? You don’t look quite the thing.”

She pointed to the woman standing next to Lady Millicent.

“I’ve seen this face before,” she said. “It’s Ada’s mother!”

There was a squeal, and they turned to see Ada and her father in the doorway. Winifred froze.

“It was you,” she said, staring at him in horror.

There was stunned silence, then Ada burst into tears.

Her father gently guided her to a chair and patted her hand.

“I don’t understand.” Percy said. “What’s going on?”

“The young lady is right,” Mr Warmslow said at length.

“So you did fight with Sir Roland, after all?”

“That is correct. We grew up here together. We were good friends and fought alongside one another – until the day he left me for dead to save his own skin.”

Winifred gasped and felt Percy’s arm around her.

“Thankfully, someone else rescued me. It took two years to recover from my wounds.

“When I finally returned to England, I discovered that my wife had died of grief, and my beautiful daughter had been left in a home.”

“How shocking!” “Indeed, Miss Melverton. I met Roland again, two years ago. He didn’t recognise me, so I formed a plan. He had destroyed the people I loved most, and I would do the same to him.

“My daughter would marry his son, whom I would later dispose of, leaving Roland bereft and Ada rich.”

“But what’s Doctor Lambton got to do with it?”

Warmslow shook his head.

“Poor Lambton recognised me. I had injured my arm the day he came over, and he insisted on looking at it, the fool.

“When he rolled up my sleeve, he saw the starshaped birthmark I have there. We’d all grown up together; he knew at once.” “So you killed him?” He nodded.

“What I hadn’t foreseen is that Ada and Edwin would fall in love. I changed my plan – Roland could hang for murder, and Ada would be happy.”

“Do you think she will recover?” Winifred asked Percy the next day. “Ada’s suffered so much.”

He smiled down at her. “I’m sure she will. Edwin is determined to marry her, despite everything.”

“Will Sir Roland and Lady Millicent allow it?”

“Sir Roland is ashamed of the suffering he’s caused and is eager to atone. Lady Millicent is glad to have him home. They’ll come round.”

They had been walking in the gardens, enjoying the fresh air after the trials of the morning. As they re-entered the house, arm in arm, Percy turned to face her.

“The real question is whether your aunt Lavinia will come round.”

Winifred raised her eyebrows.

“About what?”

“Me,” he replied. “You see, I rather think she had planned for you to marry Edwin, and now he’s otherwise engaged.”

“That’s true,” she answered with a laugh.

“And,” he continued, “I rather hoped that you might consider me in his place.”

Winifred’s eyes widened. “You see, I like you very much indeed, Miss Melverton.”

She suddenly felt rather warm, but she smiled up at him.

“I like you, too,” she said quietly, “so let’s not worry about Aunt Lavinia, shall we?”

He grinned, and the sprig of mistletoe above them trembled in the breeze as he took her in his arms and kissed her. ■