‘I just wanted to be alone for a moment. I’ll be with you presently.’

  ‘Have you checked on the musicians?’

  ‘Yes. They’re fine.’

  ‘I’ll be in the library with Peter.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  Veronica waited until she heard the library door close, then looked out into the hall.

  ‘All clear,’ she said. ‘You’d better get back to your pals before anyone else comes wandering about. Would you like to be my guests at dinner, whenever and whatever that is? It might give you a chance to get to know the family a bit.’

  ‘That would be grand,’ said Skins. ‘Do you think the others would mind? If you can swing it, it would be really useful.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  She slipped quietly out through the door with the three friends close behind.

  The rain had eased by early evening, so the majority of the Dizzy Heights had returned to their base in the chapel with their food, leaving Skins, Ellie and Dunn to dine with the family.

  The twelve around the table had split into several smaller groups.

  Newly widowed Marianne was deep in conversation with Uncle Malcolm and Hetty Hollis. Eldest son Gordon was with his sister Elizabeth and her fiancé, Peter. His wife, Charlotte, meanwhile, had chosen to talk to youngest son Howard. Veronica was trying to bring Skins, Ellie and Dunn up to date with all the family relationships as quietly and discreetly as she could.

  ‘We’re just your average, run-of-the-mill capitalist exploiters of the proletariat, really,’ she said. ‘But we make biscuits and popular gramophone records so nobody complains too loudly about it. We are the modern purveyors of bread and circuses.’

  ‘Are you a Bolshie, then?’ said Skins.

  ‘Good Lord, no,’ she said. ‘Well, maybe a little. As Ellie heard earlier, I’m a complicated bundle of contradictions, me. I love our money, but I feel the appropriate level of guilt about us having it while others are struggling. I’m proud we made the money by making things rather than from just owning land, but I’m resentful of the way Old Money looks down on us.’

  ‘Do the others feel the same?’ asked Ellie.

  Veronica laughed. ‘I don’t think many of them are capable of any sort of self-examination. As long as they’ve got the oof for trinkets and treats, they’re not given to pondering their place in the world.’

  ‘Give us the lowdown, then,’ said Skins. ‘Who are the runners and riders?’

  She cast her eye around the table. ‘Let’s see . . . where shall we begin? How about my darling stepmother, Marianne? Mama was taken ill early in 1920 and died in April that year. Papa was devastated, but it didn’t last long and three years later he and Marianne were married. She was his secretary, and the gossips have it that she wasn’t the first – nor the last – of his younger . . . “conquests”.’

  Dunn remembered the conversation before the party. ‘She’s about your brother’s age, isn’t she?’

  ‘A few months older than Gordon, yes. She’s not a bad old stick, really. She’s friendly and kind. Only averagely bright, but chaps prefer that, don’t they?’

  ‘Not me,’ said Skins.

  Veronica eyed him appraisingly. ‘Anyway, it can’t have been easy joining a family like ours, but she did her best. At least we were all grown up so she didn’t have to be a mother. Well, little Howie was nineteen but he was already up at Oxford. Betty – Elizabeth – hates her, but only because she thinks Marianne is plotting to cheat her out of her inheritance. There’s little else to dislike.’

  ‘You said she wasn’t his last conquest,’ said Ellie. ‘I . . . well, I think I overheard something at the party. Gordon and Charlotte were arguing, and it sounded like . . .’

  Veronica laughed. ‘A proper family scandal. They managed to keep it secret for a while but it came out last week that our dear father was, indeed, diddling his son’s wife.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Skins.

  ‘Blimey, indeed. There was screaming and shouting at first. Recriminations, threats . . . and then we quickly retreated to the traditional English response to a family squabble: seething, unexpressed anger and resentment.’

  Even after living in the country for six years, learning its customs, adapting to the strange way the locals used her own otherwise familiar language, Ellie still hadn’t mastered the English art of understatement. Given a thousand years and a million guesses, she would never have hit upon ‘squabble’ as an appropriate word to describe the consequences of a betrayal like that. She decided not to pursue it, and instead said, ‘Are they staying together?’

  ‘It seems so. Gordon is absolutely besotted so I rather think he’ll forgive her eventually. He’s angry with her, of course, but that will pass. And it’s nothing compared with the way he felt about Papa – he was furious with him. That was the greater betrayal in his eyes.’

  Ellie suddenly wished she had a notebook, but she was sure she could remember these few details until she was able to write them down. It wasn’t as though they weren’t thoroughly memorable.

  ‘Malcolm seems like a decent sort,’ said Dunn.

  ‘He’s a sweetheart. Papa got the business acumen and the steely ambition while his brother got the heart and compassion. He’s the only one of them speaking to poor Marianne, did you notice? He was a soldier for over twenty years, which I never quite understood, to be honest. I always wondered how a man as kind and gentle as Uncle Malcolm could have served in the army, but he loved it. Well, he loved it eventually. He saw some terrible things fighting the Boers in South Africa and they say he almost resigned his commission over it, but he came home and stuck at it. He worked as a military adviser but eventually transferred to Sandhurst to try to train the next generation of officers to be a little less brutish. That was interrupted by the Great War. He lost his leg, and then retired as a full colonel in ’19. He tried working at the biscuit factory but his heart wasn’t in it, so he sort of drifted into the music recording business. He likes to tell everyone about how he built the studio up from nothing by the sweat of his brow. If he wants extra sympathy, he’ll tap his false leg with his cane.’

  ‘He didn’t do that,’ said Dunn.

  ‘He would have if he’d seen an opportunity,’ she said with an affectionate laugh. ‘He usually does it when he’s trying to talk someone into something. It’s part of his tried and trusted technique for getting his own way.’

  ‘He certainly knows his onions,’ said Skins. ‘Even listening to them from outside you could tell that those recordings he made of us are fantastic.’

  ‘It’s his passion,’ said Veronica. ‘That’s one thing we Bilvertons are known for – we do get a little obsessed.’

  ‘Take us round the rest of the table,’ said Ellie. ‘What’s Gordon’s obsession?’

  ‘Biscuits, I think. Or the business of making them, at least. Gordon worked out early on that he was going to inherit the family firm and set about learning everything he could. He lives and breathes the biscuit business. It’s no wonder Charlotte’s eye wandered. I’d be bored to tears in no time if my other half were obsessed by bloody biscuits.’

  ‘But it wandered to another man obsessed by biscuits,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Ah, no. Papa, you see, was obsessed by money and younger women. The making of biscuits was a means to an end – doubloons and dalliances. That’s more than enough to catch many a pretty maid’s eye.’

  ‘What sort of man is Gordon, though?’

  ‘He’s not the easiest fellow to get along with, but that’s what older brothers are supposed to be like, isn’t it? It’s part of the duties?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid,’ said Ellie. ‘Only child.’

  Dunn looked up from his consommé. ‘And what about you? Are you easy to get along with?’

  Veronica laughed. ‘Well, now, that rather depends upon one’s point of view. I like to think of myself as refreshingly direct and honest, but that’s not always how others see it.’

  ‘And how do others see it?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘I think the most common reaction is, “For goodness’ sake, Veronica, do you always have to be so rude?” But if someone’s a pill, then pretending they’re not just to be polite doesn’t really help anyone, does it? It’s just a lie. It certainly wouldn’t help you, and I do want to help you. I mean, I don’t know you all from Adam, but you seem like decent folk. You say Papa was murdered and for some reason I believe you. Does that sound feeble?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Dunn. ‘It’s a bit of a relief, to tell you the truth. We’re well aware that we’re just the hired help—’

  ‘Stylish and fashionable hired help,’ interrupted Skins.

  ‘Talented and hardworking, too,’ agreed Dunn, ‘but hired help nonetheless. We’ve got no business interfering and . . . well, I don’t know about these other two, but I fully expected you all to close ranks and tell us to bugger off.’

  ‘Oh, that’s certainly my instinct, if I’m honest. Lord knows the idea of exposing the family to scandal fills one with absolute horror. But the thought that someone murdered Papa fills me with something worse. Rage. They have to be brought to justice.’

  ‘Even though it could very well be one of the family?’ said Ellie.

  Veronica looked uneasy. ‘Well, I know you mentioned that before, but . . .’

  Skins leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘I understand. But all the guests were gone, and all the band were accounted for. That leaves your family and your servants.’

  ‘Oh, it can’t be the servants – why would they want to kill him?’

  ‘Which leaves . . .’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ said Veronica, looking pale but stoic. ‘Well, in that case I’d better carry on dishing the dirt, as Ellie’s countrymen say. Where were we?’

  Ellie smiled. ‘Elizabeth?’

  ‘The second-born. The perfect daughter. Charitable works, bridge evenings, and organizing sophisticated soirées to further the career of her ambitious husband-to-be.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like you’re impressed,’ said Skins.

  ‘She’s all right, I suppose, but she’s as boring as Gordon. Mama and Papa never tired of saying, “Why can’t you be more like your sister? She knows how a lady should behave.”’

  ‘And how should ladies behave?’

  ‘I could never quite fathom that out, but I know they’re not supposed to get a job as a schoolteacher and try to make their own way in the world without a husband.’

  ‘That’s what you do, is it?’

  ‘It is. And they all hate it. Apparently I should be engaged to a nice boring solicitor like boring Peter and live a boring life like my boring sister.’

  ‘So Peter’s a solicitor, then?’ said Ellie, keen to derail this particular train of thought.

  ‘Set up his own boring practice in Oxford last year.’

  ‘How well did he get on with your father?’

  ‘Swimmingly until a couple of weeks ago. Papa was a JP – a Justice of the Peace.’

  Ellie looked to Skins for help.

  ‘Magistrate,’ he said.

  ‘Just so,’ continued Veronica. ‘Papa said . . . something or other and put the kibosh on something Peter was doing. I honestly didn’t care enough to pay any attention. But they fell out over it, whatever it was.’

  Ellie was desperately longing for her notebook now. Peter was the one who had tried it on at the party and she would have put a few nastier personal traits above ‘boring’ if she were trying to describe him. ‘What about the next group?’

  ‘Charlotte. We’ve already discussed her. Another boring, perfect woman. Charities, supporting boring Gordon. The only spark of interest she ever had in her was indulging her natural urges with dear Papa. Next to her is baby brother, Howard. Just come down from university with a degree in . . . I want to say he read history, but it was probably PPE or something equally ghastly. He’s managed to fall into a job in the City. Something dreary to do with finance. Which is a shame – he’s the only one of us who’s ever been any fun, aside from yours truly of course. I like him a lot. He’s a sweetheart.’

  ‘How well did he get on with your father?’

  ‘As I say, no one really got on with our father, but Papa was always especially infuriated by Howard. “Feckless and facetious” was Papa’s verdict. It drove him mad that Howie never took anything seriously and wasn’t interested in doing something to further the family business. He threatened to cut him out of his will if he didn’t buckle down at university. He scraped through with a third, which bought a stay of execution, but then he took his City job thanks to a pal’s father and was on the chopping block again. There was always talk of a new will, mind you.’

  Ellie frowned. ‘I’d have thought he’d be proud his son was making his own way.’

  ‘Any normal father would, but it was seen as disloyal. “Damn layabout ought to be putting his meagre talents to work for the Bilverton name.”’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ellie. ‘And what about his pal? Do you know anything about her?’

  ‘His “pal”, yes. Don’t know very much about Hetty Hollis at all, I’m afraid. She’s Howie’s best pal’s sweetheart, but that’s as much as I’ve been able to glean.’

  Skins looked over at the young woman. ‘She can sing up a storm, though.’

  ‘I’m as surprised as you are. She was quite a hit last night.’

  ‘She was indeed,’ said Ellie. ‘And what of you? Where do you teach?’

  ‘In the little school in Partlow’s Ford – the nearest town.’

  ‘Is that where you live?’

  ‘Sadly, no. I still live here. I’ve my salary and an allowance, and together they’d be able to pay the rent on a nice little cottage, but the allowance is contingent on my living here until I’m twenty-five or married. On its own, the salary from the school would barely pay for a room in a lodging house. If there were any rooms available. So I’m stuck here.’

  ‘There are worse places to be stuck,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Oh, absolutely. It’s a lovely house. Not decorated entirely to my taste, but it’s a beautiful place to live.’

  ‘I love these old houses,’ said Skins.

  ‘They have a certain charm, definitely.’

  ‘And they’re fascinating. Any secret passages?’

  Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Take no notice of him – it’s his latest obsession.’

  But Veronica’s own eyes had lit up. ‘Oh, I do so wish I could find it.’

  ‘You mean there is one?’ said Skins.

  ‘Probably not, actually. But there are stories. I’ve spent my whole life looking. What’s your interest in secret passages?’

  ‘It’s just something that happened to us a few weeks ago. Secret passages, hidden treasure . . . It made quite an impression on dear Ivor.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure there’s any treasure here. It would be wizard if there were, but the stories never mention any.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ said Skins.

  A bread roll clattered into Veronica’s cutlery. ‘Oi, Ronnie!’ said Howard. ‘What are you four muttering about over there? Stop monopolizing the fashionable folk. We need an injection of style into this dreary gathering.’

  Further details of the lives and loves of the Bilverton clan would have to wait. It was time to be sociable.

  It was almost midnight by the time the three friends made their way back to the chapel. Skins and Dunn, with an umbrella each, flanked Ellie and provided her with cover from the slackening rain. Ellie put a hand against the small of each man’s back and pressed them onwards.

  ‘Come on, boys, let’s not dawdle out here in the wet.’

  ‘That was a much less unpleasant experience than I’d been expecting,’ said Skins.

  ‘Being shoved about by your missus?’ said Dunn. ‘I thought it was a bit rude, to be honest.’

  Ellie thumped him.

  ‘Now that was definitely rude,’ said Skins. ‘But I meant the dinner.’

  ‘I thought it would be a sight more miserable than that, yes,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Once the shock of it wore off, I think they realized how little they liked the old boy,’ said Ellie. ‘Actually, Veronica doesn’t have a particularly high opinion of any of them.’

  Skins nodded, then realized they couldn’t see him in the dark. ‘She was a bit dismissive, wasn’t she?’

  ‘I need to make some notes before I forget everything. They all had a reason for wanting to get rid of him, and we only scratched the surface. Everyone’s a suspect.’

  Skins forgot once more that it was dark, and frowned. Then he remembered and said out loud, ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Gordon because the old boy was sleeping with his wife. Marianne because he was sleeping with Gordon’s wife. Peter because he did something that set his business back. Howard because he was going to be disinherited.’

  ‘That’s not everyone,’ said Dunn. ‘What about Uncle Malcolm? Or Elizabeth? Scarlet Charlotte? Even our new pal Veronica?’

  ‘It’s still more than half of them. And I bet the more we dig, the more we’ll find.’

  ‘We still have to work out how it was done,’ said Skins.

  ‘We’re easily up to the task,’ said Ellie. ‘Now let’s get in out of the rain and tell the others.’

  She opened the chapel door and ushered them in. The lights were on, which was an encouraging sign, and she was hoping for a chance to share their discoveries with Puddle and the others. There was no chatter, though; only the sound of slow, steady breathing and an occasional snore. That was less encouraging.

  ‘They can’t all be asleep,’ she said as they walked into the main body of the chapel.

  But they were. Still fully dressed. Vera, Puddle and Katy were in a tangled heap on Puddle’s bed. Mickey, Benny and Eustace were slumped in chairs around a table where they had obviously been playing cards with Elk, who had fallen from his chair to the ground.

  ‘What the bleedin’ ’ell . . . ?’ said Skins.

  Ellie rushed to check them. ‘They’re all breathing OK, but they’re out cold. Completely unresponsive. Drugged, I’d say.’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Dunn. ‘How?’