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“Yes. A dozen sat down to di
“No. Game bird shooting season well over by then. But there was some shooting pla
Joe caught the bitterness in the tone and wondered whether Hu
“At least six—three married couples—could be judged to have political interests, the men being MPs of differing persuasions, in fact,” Joe recalled. “That’s one thing that impresses me about James Truelove—he’s open-minded, with friends and influence with all parties. That’s not easy to achieve. Then there was the inevitable newspaper magnate and his wife. And Sir James and Lady Truelove …” Joe hesitated.
“Leaving the last two—whom I won’t describe as a couple. They were put to sit next to each other I understand from the butler—Miss Dorcas Joliffe, Sir James’s protégée and student researcher, and, by her side, his young brother, Alexander.”
“How young?”
“Not that young. Mid-twenties. Alex was an afterthought and no one was more surprised than his mother when he made his appearance on the family tree after James and two daughters. Still, a spare is always a useful addition to the heir.”
“I blush to air such an obvious matter but I suppose I should ask: What are his chances of succeeding his brother to the baronetcy?”
“He’ll have to outlive him and count on James’s not producing a legitimate son. So—the chances are not good when the incumbent’s youthful and vigorous as James is. Still, James had been married to Lavinia for some years and produced no children …”
Once again, Joe felt himself prodded into drawing a conclusion: “The smart thing, if Alex had some scheme in mind to inherit, would have been to encourage an infertile situation to run its course.”
“Right. With Lavinia dead, Sir James is on the loose again and could well remarry. Time enough to produce an heir to dislodge Master Alex.”
“What is Alexander currently up to?”
“He’s living at the Hall at the moment, taking a year off after his banking job in the City before he goes out to Africa or some other spot unprepared as yet for his attentions.”
“He gave up a banking career?”
“Ah. Good question. He’ll tell you himself—he got out minutes before he was booted out. Brags about it. Gift of the gab, like all the Trueloves.”
“Seating him alongside Dorcas—was that an attempt at matchmaking by any chance?” Joe managed to keep his voice steady.
Hu
“Eh? What? Lavinia Truelove?” Joe was astonished. “The silliest woman in the Shires? She didn’t even know Dorcas. And Dorcas wouldn’t have bothered to exchange more than a dozen words with her. Asking for trouble to put them at the same table.” He bit his lip.
“Well, it’s a blessing that it’s a wide table and they weren’t in hair-tugging reach, the butler says. A right ding-dong going on. Sir James was embarrassed, her ladyship was ‘a trifle over-excited,’ in butler terms. In other words even worse than her usual overbearing self. But that’s just my interpretation of what was said. You can’t fault the servants. They know how to keep quiet. They only opened up as far as they did because it was me asking.”
“Did you manage to find out what they were quarrelling about?”
Hu
“Horses? What horses?”
“Any old nags. Lady Truelove may have been a ni
“Ah. That wouldn’t have impressed Dorcas. She’s a damned good rider, too, but she tends to go about the place on shaggy ponies without a saddle. They follow her around like dogs. Trot at her heel in an obsequious way. I’ve seen beasts cross fields to come and nuzzle her neck. I think she prefers animals to people. I’d make faster headway with Dorcas if I were a deer-hound or a hairy-heeled Shire horse. She spent too many of her days with her father yarning around gypsy campfires when she was a little thing and she picked up some unusual skills. Her father’s a painter. A very good one, too, but he went through a stage of imagining he was Augustus John. You know—caravans, corduroy britches and clay-baked hedgehogs.” Joe shuddered gently.
“I see. Not a meeting of minds pla
“Not if she knew anything about Dorcas, no. I’m sure you’ve guessed correctly, Hu
“He wouldn’t mind at all getting into her knickers, like. Men! Buggers! I don’t know why women go on putting up with us. Got it. What we’re saying then is, as I suspected, all this horse stuff was a bluff, a diversionary tactic, an exchange of snowballs when bullets are not appropriate.”
“That’s exactly what I’d guess, knowing Dorcas as I do …” Joe fell silent.
“And knowing Lavinia as I did … I’d agree with you that the two women under one roof was an explosive situation. But, Sandilands, what are we on about? There was no explosion. Let’s hang on to this—Miss Dorcas had only just put in an appearance and was nowhere near the stables that night.”
Joe was soothed to hear the quiet good sense.
“It really was the horse that did it! He was caught red-toothed, you might say. The whole nasty business was witnessed by the most credible witnesses in the land. Two Suffolk boys. No one got pushed off a roof, bashed on the head with a candlestick or stuck with an assegai. It’s all right, sir. I’m sure you’ve no cause to fret.”