Dizzy Dilemmas (23 page)

“I told you, you were all making too much noise!”
Dizzy pointed out.

“So you did, darling,
” Ross said.

             
The journey to Strawberry Villa was soon accomplished and they were greeted at the door by the housekeeper Mrs Harris; a friendly soul who soon led the ladies off to a room in which they could refresh themselves leaving the butler to sort the gentlemen. Twenty minutes later and they were all gathered back in the entrance hall ready for the tour.

             
Horace Walpole along with a group of friends designed the villa in the gothic rather than the fashionable classical design. They took their inspiration from the architecture of cathedrals and abbeys and built the house with arched doorways, rose windows and intricately carved plasterwork. Unlike the original medieval builders however, instead of using stone they used wood, plaster and papier-mâché.

             
The hall and stairwell was rather gloomy with grey stony wallpaper painted with gothic arches

“The Earl based this on the tomb of Prince Arthur in Worcester Cathedral” the housekeeper told them
as they looked around, taking note also of the balustrade with its antelopes and shields. They ascended the stairs and entered the library with its arched bookcases and intricately patterned ceiling. The window too was arched and incorporated stained glass.

“What a fantastic room!” exclaimed Genevieve rotating slowly so that she could take everything in. “A great place to study history do you not think?”

“Or to set a murder!” Dizzy said which earned her a strange look from their guide.

“We shall move onto the gallery next
,” she announced, leading the way.

“The Earl did most of his enterta
ining in here,” she informed them as they went in. The room was long with a dado reaching the height of the window going all the way around the room. Several arched windows along one wall allowed light to flood the room displaying its rich crimson damask wall coverings to advantage. The papier-mâché ceiling; heavily sculpted and resembling convex fans, was ornately gilded. 

             
The Holbein Chamber also sported an intricately sculptured papier-mâché ceiling and was modelled on one that could be found at Windsor Castle. Around the purple walls were hung several works of the German artist.

“This is called the Tribune and was where Horace Walpole kept all his most valuable pieces of art from paintings to statues. He also had a pri
celess collection of miniatures,” The housekeeper explained. “Only his closest friends were allowed in here and anyone else could only view it through the grilled door.”

They finished their tour in the round room
with its fine, gilded fireplace; the design of which was based on the tomb of Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey.

“If you ladies and gentlemen would like to take a stroll in the gardens, I will serve afternoon tea in here at four, if that suits you.”

“That would be lovely, Mrs Harris,” Erica assured her and they made their way out into the warm afternoon sun.

             
The landscaped gardens were extensive; covering around nine acres and extending down to the river Thames and as well as flower beds it boasted a grove of lime trees, a meadow and fields.

“What a beautiful
house!” Dizzy stated as the turned to view the building from the outside. It rather resembled a castle crossed with a cathedral with its castellation, arched windows and twisted chimneys.

“It is certainly a novelty
,” Glenmore said, “When Walpole was alive it was a popular place to come and view. He liked to take people of a tour and wanted it to be quite a theatrical experience for them.”

“It cer
tainly compliments his writing: very gothic!” Erica commented.

“And it can certainly inspire a writer too.
I can just imagine a body hanging in that gloomy stairwell; blood dripping onto the floor below to form a puddle,” Dizzy said.

“Gruesome.”
muttered Ross. “Have you got a murderer in mind and a motive?”

“Not yet but give me half an hour and I am sure it will all be takin
g shape in my mind,” she smiled then after a short pause continued. “Although did you see the portrait in the gallery; the one of a young woman who was some relative or other of the Earl?”

“There were rather a lot of pictures and a few were of young women
,” Glenmore pointed out.

“She had a mark around
her neck if you remember, and Mrs. Harris explained that it had somehow been damaged by damp although no one understands how it could have happened.”

“Oh yes and also according to Mrs Harris, she died tragically young and is
purported to haunt the house. It is said she glides soulfully through the rooms on just one day a year; every fifteenth of November which is the anniversary of her death,” Erica added.

“Does
she? I did not hear that part!” Dizzy said.

“You and Marcus had wa
ndered over to admire the view from the windows and so missed her telling us the story,” Erica explained.

“Then she has definitely got to be
a character. What if her death was believed to be a suicide but then the markings mysteriously appeared on her painting and showed that it was not suicide at all but murder!” Dizzy said excitedly; warming to her theme.

“So who killed her?” Robert prompted.

“And why was she killed?” Genevieve added.

“And does the mark on the painting appear supernaturally?” Ross wanted to know.

“Oh goodness, you are a demanding audience are you not? Well let me see! She had stumbled onto a secret; one of long standing which would cause terrible trouble if it became common knowledge.”

“That would certainly prompt someone to murder if t
he secret was terribly damaging,” Erica agreed.

“
What if the stained glass windows held that secret? Each leaded light has a small clue that when put together tells of a devastating truth and our victim had been clever enough to discover it,” Dizzy said.

“She was not that clever for she got herself murdered!”
Genevieve scoffed “But do go on.”

“
Why was she murdered? What was the secret?” Dizzy pondered. “She was the daughter of the steward who in turn had been the son of the previous steward, who had been the son of the steward before that. What if the secret was that their family were the rightful owners? In can be a crime of greed!”

“Why were they then acting as stewards?” Robert asked.

“I am coming to that!” Dizzy retorted. “The steward at the time was married to a beautiful woman who was pursued relentlessly by the lord of the manor who thought he was entitled to anything or anyone he desired but the wife, who loved her husband denied him.”

“It sounds like it is turning into a tragic love story,” Ross stated “with the lord of the manor suffering from unrequited love; languishing after another man’s wife.
Should I get a handkerchief out ready?”

“
He did not love her. He just thought it was his right to have his wicked way with her,” Dizzy said emphatically. “He was so wicked that he threatened to turn her husband off without a reference unless she agreed to warm his bed.”

“You are the Dowager’s granddaughter that is for sure!”
Glenmore smiled. “No dainty hedging but say it like it is!”

“So she gave in to his demands to save them from penury?” Genevieve asked.

“She was by this time expecting and worried for the child she carried, agreed to his terms; she would be his mistress and he would continue to employ her husband. The lady of the manor was also expecting and it came to pass that the children, both boys were born within hours of each other. Sadly the steward’s wife died in childbirth and their baby not long after, but feeling the need to confess before she departed this life, she told her husband all.”

“I knew I should have got my handkerchief out!” Glenmore said, pretending to sniff back the tears.

“Here you are old chap, you can borrow mine!” Ross said dabbing his own eyes before handing the white square of linen to Marcus. “Such tragedy!”

“My heart is breaking!” cried Robert.

“Oh stop it will you,” Erica frowned at them and told Dizzy to go on.

“Angry be
yond belief, the steward wanted revenge and what better way than to take away the man’s heir so he swapped the babies.”

“So why is the secret in the windows?” Genevieve asks “Surely he should have kept the information to himself.”

“He always intended to return the child to its rightful place but not until he had made its childhood miserable and deprived. He was overseeing the construction of the house you see before you, and hence hid the clues in the window designs so that the truth would always be in plain sight for all to see. It gave him a sort of malicious satisfaction to know that everyday his enemy would be looking out of those windows without realising that they were telling him his heir was alive.”

“So what went wrong with his plans? Why does it take three generations before the truth is discovered?” Erica asks now fully caught up in the story.

“Ah that is the twist in the tale. The man cannot help but love the boy and before long sees him as his own son and therefore his plans for revenge go awry. He feels it is not enough punishment to have deprived the lord of his heir and so he persuades the wife to have an affair and gets her with child. He no longer wished for the secret to be revealed as his own child would inherit and what sweeter revenge than that?”

“Sweet indeed but who then murdered the victim, all these years later?” asked Genevieve.

“That would be the current lord of the manor who would lose everything if the truth was to come out,” said Robert, who thought he had it all sewn up.

“Actually no for that would be too obvious. I have decided to make his valet the murderer.”

“The valet did it? To protect his master whom he holds in high regard?” asked Ross with a frown.

“No because he
was well paid and comfortable so did not want to apply for a new position!” Dizzy said and then laughed at their expressions. “It is a twist on the theme of the ‘the butler did it!’”

“It would serve you right if we murdered you!” cried Genevieve “What an abysmal ending!”

“What pray were you expecting on such short notice?” Dizzy enquired still amused by their reactions to her story ending.

“You have not explained how the mark got on the painting? Was it the victim from beyond the grave or did someone else know of the murder?” Robert asked.

“It was damp, just as Mrs Harris told you!”

“A good effort G
herkin,” Glenmore said putting his arm around her shoulders in a manner that could only be described as condescending, “but there were not enough bodies!”

Dizzy pushed him off “What do you mean not enough bodies?”

“You need at least four bodies littered around the place to make a good murder story,” he joked.

“Yes and the more gruesome the better!”
added Ross “Eyes popping out and that sort of thing.”

“Every time a new suspect appears on the scene
you could have him scythed down,” Robert joined in.

“
Goodness and I thought you were bloodthirsty Dizzy!” exclaimed Genevieve.

“All this bloodletting has made me thirsty so let us adjourn to the round room for that tea
Mrs Harris promised us,” Erica suggested and they all readily agreed and turned back towards the entrance but as they drew near she said “You do not think the tea will have been poisoned do you?” to which there was a collective groan.

             
When the carriage pulled up outside the front of the Brockton residence, Glenmore insisted on accompanying the girls up the steps to where Coulton stood at the open door.

“Thank you Glenmore for a wonderful day
,” Genevieve said holding out her hand to him which he took in his.

“You are more
than welcome, Lady Genevieve.” he assured her.

“Yes, thank you Glenmore,
I have had a great time,” Dizzy said then pulling a face continued; “But now we must hurry because the Dowager insists we attend the Fenchurch ball tonight.”

“Then I must insist you save the supper waltz for me.” When she still looked disgruntled he added “Come it will not be so bad will it?”

“The ball will be tedious as you very well know but that is not why I object to attending. Aunt Tess has arranged for a Bow Street Runner to give a talk on the latest investigative practices and techniques; linking them to some of their old cases. It promised to be a riveting evening but Grandmamma is adamant.”

“Is that not being hosted by Stephen and Fiona Pearson?” Dizzy nodded. “They only live a few minutes walk from the Fenchurch’s. I do not see why we cannot arrange to slip away from the ball and return in good time for you to accompany t
he Dowager home. Leave it to me,” he told her.