‘I was thinking of going up to the kitchens and seeing if they had anything for lunch,’ said Mickey. ‘Any requests?’

  ‘Nothing too heavy,’ said Puddle. ‘I’m still full from breakfast.’

  ‘I think Mrs Radway is putting something together from the remnants of yesterday’s picnic tea,’ said Veronica. ‘None of the family ate anything so there’s plenty left to make a decent luncheon for everyone, and she’s not one to let anything go to waste. To be honest, there’s enough for at least fifty people. She does tend to overdo things, our Mrs R.’

  ‘Handsome,’ said Mickey. ‘Come on, then, you lot, let’s go and chat her up, see if we can get the good stuff before it’s gone. Be nice to get some fresh air an’ all.’

  ‘If the weather’s warming up, perhaps we can eat al fresco,’ said Puddle.

  Chairs scraped, cards were put away, and Mickey led the way out of the door.

  Ellie, Skins and Dunn made to follow, but Veronica held them back.

  ‘Do you chaps want a squizz round the house while everyone is occupied?’ she said. ‘I thought it might help with your . . . investigations.’

  ‘Sounds like a grand idea,’ said Skins. ‘We’ll give that lot a couple of minutes to get down to the kitchens, then we can make our own way to the house with no one thinking anything of it.’

  They entered, as usual, through the double doors to the salon. The sun was temporarily obscured by a cloud, but the skies had lightened, and for the first time it occurred to Skins to look up at the ceiling.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘Has that glass roof been there all along?’

  ‘Since before we moved in, certainly,’ said Veronica. ‘Have you really only just noticed it?’

  Skins smiled apologetically. ‘Well, what with the gaudy furniture and the ugly paintings – no offence – there was plenty to look at down here. And it’s been dark most of the time.’

  ‘It is all a bit tacky in here, isn’t it? I like to hope Gordon will redecorate in a more modern style, but then I remember I’m talking about Gordon and my hopes fade. This place will remain a monument to Georgian bad taste until we can no longer afford to run it and we give it to the National Trust. Although they might not want it, of course – they might not be able to afford to keep it, either.’

  ‘I think it’s charming,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Oh, it has charm. It’s just that it’s like living in someone else’s house. Or a museum. Very much like a museum, in fact. I’m hoping for enough of a bequest in the will that I can get a place of my own somewhere, but I fear that’s as forlorn a hope as the one that Gordon will turn out not to be boringly bourgeois. But, anyway. The house was built in 1742 by Elias Dunweasel, who made his fortune from a weaving device, the Dunweasel Jiggler. He wanted a home for his three wives and their fourteen children, where they could live a life of—’

  ‘Really?’ interrupted Ellie.

  ‘No, not really. Sorry. The truth doesn’t interest most visitors so I invented Dunweasel when I was little. He’s much more fun, don’t you think? Anyway, this is the salon. When the sun’s out in the morning it’s as beastly hot in here as in the garden parlour, but in the afternoon it becomes quite pleasant. The paintings are . . . probably a job lot from a local dealer, knowing Papa. Or perhaps they came with the house. They want putting on a bonfire – that much I do know. The delicious piano over there is the Bösendorfer we put on the stage for you, by the way.’

  ‘So there’s a Bösendorfer in the salon,’ said Dunn, ‘a Bechstein in the drawing room and a Steinway in the chapel. You could just sell the pianos and be able to afford a place of your own.’

  ‘Quite possibly, although I’d have to be a little careful what I said about this one when I put it up for sale. I usually tell anyone who stands still long enough that we shouldn’t keep it in here, but my warnings about the frame warping in the heat fall on deaf ears. Although, actually, I don’t think it’s faring too badly, and I don’t have to pay to have it retuned, so I suppose I shouldn’t care quite so much.’

  She walked through the door to the right. ‘This is the dining room, but you’ve seen it already, so shall we skip it? We’ll have to get out of the way before they start congregating in here for the picnic, anyway.’

  ‘Unless Puddle persuades them to eat outside,’ said Dunn.

  ‘That’s a point. But the staff will be back and forth either way, so we’d better not linger. The décor is in the same style, which I believe is known as Regency Ghastly. Note the particularly unappetizing painting of a bowl of fruit. The oak dining table is William IV, and is inscribed underneath with the initials of all four Bilverton children, carved when Gordon was given a new penknife for his birthday.’

  ‘You make Gordon out to be so dull,’ said Ellie. ‘But he joined in with that.’

  ‘In fact, no. I “borrowed” the new knife and carved my own initials, but then realized it would be a bit of a giveaway if the vandalism were discovered so I carved everyone else’s as well by way of covering my tracks. I made rather a neat job of it, even if I say so myself.’

  ‘Cunning,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Thank you. To be honest, I don’t think anyone would be in any doubt as to who had done it, but so far my handiwork remains a secret and I am, as yet, unaccused. Now, if we go through this door here we’ll find ourselves in a little vestibule where I used to lurk when Mama and Papa were entertaining – I was a great one for earwigging at keyholes. Here’s another secret staircase leading upstairs . . .’ She indicated what looked like an ordinary panelled wall, but headed straight past and instead opened a more conventional door. ‘And this is the drawing room. This room, I actually like. The furniture is far from modern, but it’s a good deal more comfortable. There’s room in here for us all to gather and enjoy a post-prandial cup of coffee and still not feel as though we’re on top of each other. This is where the Bechstein lives – it’s a much better place for a piano.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Ellie. ‘I played it on Friday.’

  ‘And another gramophone,’ said Skins. ‘Any secret doors?’

  Veronica laughed. ‘Not as far as any of us knows, no. I’ve checked most thoroughly. There might be something at the back of the fireplace, but I’m not sure how it might be opened, nor where it would lead if we managed it.’

  Skins nodded sagely. Ellie rolled her eyes.

  Veronica moved on. ‘This,’ she said as she led them through the door at the other end of the drawing room, ‘you also know. It’s the billiards room. For billiards. Although we mostly play snooker.’

  ‘Who’s the best?’ asked Dunn.

  ‘At snooker? Me, probably. I used to come in here a lot when we were all small. Boring Bossy Betty would never let my dolls join in with her tea parties so I used to come down here where they could play each other at snooker instead. We children used to have our own little cues and a stool to stand on, so I was able to keep myself amused in here for hours.’

  Skins made as though to speak.

  ‘No,’ said Veronica, ‘there are no secret doors in here, either. Though if you set the top score to sixty-six and pull down on the sixth cue from the left you’ll open a portal to hell, and one of Beelzebub’s demonic minions will emerge to offer you gifts beyond the dreams of mortal man in return for your eternal soul. Or so they say. I’ve never tried it myself, though it might account for Gordon’s successes. The boy was always such a dullard, and yet here he is on the verge of controlling a biscuit empire to rival Peek Freans and McVitie’s.’

  She peered out through the door the band had been using on Friday night.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘the coast’s clear.’

  They hurried across the Grand Hall to John Bilverton’s study.

  ‘Papa’s study you know, too,’ said Veronica as Skins pushed the door shut behind them. ‘We were never allowed in here, so of course I was always fascinated by this room as a child. Papa forbade us to come in when he was working, and the door remained locked when he wasn’t.’ She paused. ‘Before you ask . . . Skins . . . May I call you Skins?’

  ‘Everyone does,’ he said.

  ‘Not everyone, honey,’ said Ellie.

  ‘No, fair dos. Ellie doesn’t, but she has special dispensation to use my given name on account of how I love her so much. And because I’m too terrified of her to tell her not to.’

  ‘As you should be,’ said Ellie. ‘It’s the basis of a happy marriage.’

  Veronica smiled. ‘Thank you. As I was saying, Skins, I don’t know of a secret door in here, though with none of us ever having been allowed in, that’s more difficult to confirm.’

  ‘We need time and privacy to have a good poke about,’ said Dunn. ‘So far it’s the only idea we’ve got for how someone might have shot your dad from inside a locked room.’

  ‘I understand. We’ve no time now, though – someone will come looking for us if we don’t show up for lunch soon. But I’ll work out a way of getting you all back in here again later on. Leave it to me.’

  Dunn nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You spent some time in the garden parlour yesterday. Do you want to see it again?’

  ‘No,’ said Ellie. ‘If time is tight, I’d rather have a good look at the . . . library?’

  ‘Yes, the library is the only other room on the ground floor. Walk this way.’

  ‘If I could walk that way—’ began Skins, but a swat on the arm from Ellie dissuaded him from saying anything more.

  They left the study and walked the length of the hall, past the massive staircase and through to the short corridor that led to the library.

  ‘Two secret doors for you here, Skins,’ said Veronica. ‘The one on the left leads down to the servants’ area—’

  ‘We used those stairs this morning,’ he said. ‘But the door was open – I didn’t realize it was a secret one.’

  ‘And now you do. And to the right is the servants’ staircase that’ll take you up to the first floor without having to use the main stairs.’

  She indicated what looked at first glance like another panelled wall. On closer inspection, though, one of the panel frames was cut in at about waist height to provide a recessed handle.

  ‘Give it a firm pull,’ said Veronica, indicating the handle.

  Skins put his fingers in the slot behind the frame and tugged. With the click of a simple catch, a previously invisible door opened and swung towards him.

  ‘Nice,’ said Skins with an appreciative nod. ‘Whoever built this gaff didn’t mess about, did they? That’s very neatly done.’

  ‘I’ve always liked that door,’ said Veronica. ‘And I’ve always liked this next room, too.’

  She led them into the library.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls, precluding the hanging of the paintings of which Veronica so stoutly disapproved – in here the impressive book collection was the main event. There were four wing-backed leather armchairs, each with its own side table and electric lamp. There were other, less impressive chairs and small tables dotted about, as well as a sofa. Last, but by no means least, was a set of steps in the corner, like a miniature four-tread spiral staircase, which could be moved around the room to reach the high shelves.

  ‘When my dolls weren’t playing each other at snooker, I used to spend most of the rest of my time in here. I’ve read almost everything apart from some of the more tedious political books on that wall over there.’

  ‘I would have done the same,’ said Ellie. ‘We had a decent enough library in the house in Annapolis, but it didn’t have the . . . the warmth of this one. It has an atmosphere, don’t you think?’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. I lobbied to put my bed in here, but it was never allowed.’

  Howard suddenly appeared in the other doorway.

  ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘What are you up to, lurking in here? Come on, you lot – luncheon is served on the terrace.’

  The tour was temporarily halted for lunch.

  Chapter Eight

  The servants had put two large tables together on the terrace. The air was heavy as the sun shone from the cloudless sky and warmed the waterlogged ground. Summer, at least, was back to normal.

  Dunsworth, the butler, had stationed himself near the foot of the steps leading down from the French doors, alert to the goings-on at the table and ready to anticipate the needs of the family and their unexpected guests. He smiled a greeting as Veronica led her tour party down the steps and accompanied them to their seats.

  Mrs Radway had provided a sumptuous spread of cold meats and salads, with leftovers from Friday’s feast baked into pies or repurposed as rissoles. There were jugs of iced cordial as well as the ever-present champagne. Most of the family were drinking the cordial. Most of the band were drinking the champagne.

  The Bilvertons and Dizzies were already seated, leaving five vacant places. Ellie carefully totted up who was present and found that Hetty Hollis was the fifth absentee. The other empty chairs were arranged in two pairs. Veronica and Dunn took one, putting Dunn next to Elizabeth’s fiancé, Peter. Ellie and Skins sat together in the other pair, with Skins next to Elizabeth and Ellie beside Gordon. With a wave of his hand, Dunsworth summoned a footman to hold Veronica’s chair while he took care of Ellie.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs . . . Maloney,’ said Gordon. ‘I’ve remembered that right?’

  ‘You have,’ she said. ‘But please call me Ellie.’

  ‘Thank you, Ellie. I don’t think I said so yesterday but the party was a great success, thanks in no small part to the splendid efforts of the band – your husband and his colleagues did us proud. I can only apologize for the dreadful circumstances of your enforced stay. I took a stroll down the drive this morning and it’s still not possible even to get off the estate, much less into town.’

  ‘It’s scarcely your fault. And you have our deepest sympathies, of course.’

  ‘Thank you. It was a shock, I have to admit. Deeply saddening for all of us. He was a remarkable man. A great man. I’m sure you’ve worked out by now that . . . Well, let’s just say that my father was a difficult man, too, but great men often are, aren’t they?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be missed,’ said Ellie.

  ‘He will. Terribly.’ He paused for a moment, looking off into space before abruptly pulling himself together. ‘I say, is everything all right with your accommodation? We hadn’t anticipated that you’d have to stay more than one night.’

  ‘We’ll be fine. The boys are used to roughing it occasionally when they’re on the road.’

  Gordon frowned. ‘I’m sure they are, but it’s not how we prefer to treat our guests – for guests you are, Ellie. It hasn’t gone down too well with certain people’ – he glanced across the table at Peter – ‘but I decided under the circumstances that we couldn’t just treat you as staff. It didn’t feel right, somehow.’ He called across the long table. ‘Marianne!’

  Marianne looked up. ‘Yes?’ she said coldly.

  ‘Why haven’t we offered the musicians the guest bedrooms?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to Mrs Freeman and it’s all in hand. I’m not entirely certain why you think it any of your concern.’

  ‘Insufferable woman,’ he muttered. ‘Thinks she owns the place.’

  Charlotte was sitting a couple of seats away and couldn’t resist the opportunity to needle her husband. ‘Technically, darling, she very well might. Until the will is read and we learn differently, the house is hers and everything that’s in it.’

  ‘When I wish to hear the opinions of street girls I shall go to Jericho. They’ve a damn sight more honour and integrity, so it might be a journey worth making.’

  ‘I was given to understand you have a discount as a regular customer, darling.’

  Gordon seethed for a moment. Then, as though nothing had happened, he turned back to an embarrassed Ellie.

  ‘I’ll ensure the servants make up the guest rooms for you all,’ he said, as though oblivious to the fact that Marianne had already seen to it.

  Ellie tried to smile. ‘Umm . . . Thank you. I’ll let Katy know.’

  ‘I do feel for you all being stuck here with us. Is the band losing work?’

  ‘They have a residency at a London club – the Augmented Ninth, do you know it? They play there on Monday nights, and I heard something about them playing at a new club on Wednesday, but those are the only engagements in the diary for the rest of the week, as far as I know. The clubs will wonder where they are if we don’t get back and no one manages to call them in time, but Katy will explain as soon as she can. They have a great relationship with the Augmented Ninth so I know they’ll understand. They might not get invited back to the new one if they let them down, but there are new clubs opening all the time so it’s no great loss to the Dizzies.’

  ‘There won’t be consequences for breaking the contracts?’

  ‘It’s not really their fault, is it? Katy will claim exigent circumstances. Or Act of God. I’m sure it’ll work out OK.’

  ‘That’s something, at least. Mrs Cannon knows we’re still paying for the motor coach, I hope. Perhaps I ought to tell her. I foresee a good few days of having to tell people things.’ He paused for a moment in thought, then continued, almost as though talking to himself. ‘Oh, dear Lord, the board of directors is going to be a nightmare. I need to talk to our solicitor. I need to see that will . . . I’m so sorry, Mrs Malo— Ellie. Here I am wittering on about work again. I’m a dreadful host.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Ellie kindly. ‘You’ve a lot to deal with.’

  He glanced over at Charlotte, who was talking to Vera. ‘Don’t I just?’

  Ellie chose not to say anything.

  Howard caught her eye and winked. ‘Are you boring our guest, Gordy?’ he said. ‘I got them all the way down from London to entertain us, and you repay them by being a tedious old pill.’

  Gordon flushed red. ‘Do shut up, Howard, there’s a good boy.’

  ‘Would that I could, old horse, would that I could. But if I don’t tell you you’re a crashing bore, no one will. It’s for your own good, and the good of society at large.’