Dizzy Dilemmas (32 page)

Glenmore only stopped long enough to collect a key from the box that housed his fobs and tie pins before going to the connecting door
which he quickly opened and stepped inside. He heard a gasp and turned to see Dizzy curled up with a book; totally absorbed in the story and oblivious to his presence. He watched her for a while and smiled at her expression of fascinated horror and noises of distress. It was only when she turned a page that she realised she was not alone and uttered a little shriek. “Do you have to creep around all the time? You scared me witless! I did not hear you knock!”

“I let myself in
,” he informed her, indicating the door which stood open “My room is just through there.”

Dizzy glanced from him to the
connecting door and back again totally bewildered. “Two things,” she said when she found her voice. “That door was locked and Mrs Flockton has the key so what did you do; wrest it away from her? And what in heaven’s name do you think you are doing putting me in the Duchess’ suite? Everyone is bound to find out and my reputation will be ruined! I thought it was another female guest in there!”

“Obviously I have my own key!”
he smiled. “As to your other question; unless you tell them, no one will know. This is the family wing so there are no guests along here. Nobody will be walking down the corridor and chance to see you coming out of the Duke’s apartments. Stop worrying, Gherkin.”

“Of course they will find out! I need to move rooms.”

“There is none other available. Moving now would only draw attention so it is best to stay here. Trust me it will be fine,” he told her; unconcerned. “May I sit down?”

She
sighed but nodded and he took the armchair across the hearth from hers, and crossed one long, muscled thigh over the other.

“This idea of yours for a murder mystery house party has certainly be
en well received by your guests but I am intrigued; how did you get hold of one of my novels?”

“I cannot possi
bly reveal my sources, Gherkin; not until I tell you something first,” he smiled. “But what I can reveal is that I have found a publisher interested in your work. He has asked if he can meet with you to discuss a contract.”

“Really!”
she exclaimed, sitting up straight in her chair.

“Yes” he nodded. “My source has an unusual gift in that they can read your scrawl and so has been copying up your novels as you write them; very neatly I might add. It is those copies I took with me to the publisher and he believes they could be very popular. So shall I arrange a meeting?”

“Yes please and thank you too.”

“Then I can reveal my source is none other than Sarah; your maid. You will have to dismiss her I am afraid and re-employ her as your secretary.”

“Sarah? Of course I should have guessed. We always discuss murders and crimes that are reported in the papers and also talk about the plots and characters for my stories. I did not know she was copying them up though.”

“
She told me how very frustrating she found it trying to keep abreast of the storyline when having to spend so much time deciphering your scribble. She therefore copied out your work so she could read it easily and with enjoyment. She is a great fan of yours and was invaluable in choosing a story for this house party,” he told her.

“
On that subject, Glenmore; why have you given yourself the role of bridegroom? Surely it is going to be a trifle awkward hosting a party when you are dead?” she asked.

“I could not resist, my delicious Gherkin! Tomorrow the two of us will walk down the isle as man and wife. Is that not the epitome of irony given the foundation of our friendship is our
wish to avoid the married state,” he laughed.

“Who is to play the vicar? Does he know he is destined to be hanged for murder?”

“Oh he is ecstatic, believe me! He shares your interest in grisly crimes and is looking forward to committing a handful of gruesome murders,” he assured her.

“
Only two; yours and mine!” she corrected him. “I suppose being in the family wing means I can skulk around more easily without being seen once I am dead! I assume you will show me how to get in and out without using the main parts of the house?”

“Do not worry, Gherkin. I have it all planned out. Have no fear; you will not be in the least bit bored!” he assured her with a grin and then before she could say anything more he stood up saying, “I had best leave you now for Sarah will be here any moment.
Do I get a kiss goodbye?”

Her only reply was to throw a cushion at him which he neatly fielded.

              Dinner that evening was a theatrical affair with everyone affecting the role of their character amidst much hilarity. The acting was over the top and the competition to excel was fierce thus the normal murmur of conversation politely undertaken over the dinner table was replaced by a riot of noise guaranteed to induce a migraine in any persons of a timid nature. Fortunately timid was far removed from those attending and so there was no need for anyone to call for a headache draught though one or two of the staff came close.

“I believe the butler did it!” Stephen stated in a voice loud enough to be heard by several people. “It is usually the butler!”

“Did what?” asked Genevieve “Nobody has been murdered yet!”

“Flockton, do you intend to bump off someone in the course of the next few days?” Glenmore asked his butler.

“I am not at liberty to say sir!” replied the butler; straight-faced.

“
Does anyone else think the wine smells of almonds?” asked Dizzy sniffing the wine, but her eyes were twinkling with mischief as she looked at the butler over the rim of the glass.

Everyone sitting around Dizzy picked up their glasses and began to smell and either agree or disagree with her and the commotion set others to ask what was going on until very soon most of the dinner guests were sniffing their wine suspiciously.

“Is the wine off?” asked Fiona “It smells fine to me!”

“
The almond wine has yet to reach you, Mrs Pearson.” Flockton advised her.

“Almond wine?” asked Fiona perplexed.

“Lady Dizzy is implying the wine has been poisoned with cyanide!” Glenmore explained. “I believe her and Flockton are playing a trick on you; cyanide you see, smells of bitter almonds.”

“But it might be a double bluff and he has poisoned the wine; perhaps one of us is about to die!” cried Fiona and everyone became silent; eyes darting around the table waiting expectantly for someone to slump down dead.

Flockton cleared his throat. “Rest assured ladies and gentlemen, I would consider it far beneath me to poison someone in the middle of the dinner.” Then when everyone was seen to visibly relax he added “I would wait until everyone had finished eating!”

“Thank you Flockton,
” The Dowager smiled. “You have set my mind at rest. For once I am glad to be excluded from the after dinner port!”

“Do you think the victim is going to be poisoned?” asked Genevieve. “I was hoping for something a bit more bloodthirsty, like a stabbing.”

“If it is lots of blood you want; I would suggest an axe!” Ross replied and warming to his theme added; “You could chop up the body into little bits!”

There then followed a lively discussion on the best way to carry out a heinous crime which moved on to how to plan the perfect murder
and the disposal of the body.

“I am not sure I shall sleep a wink tonight!” said Georgiana half joking, half seriously as the ladies left the dining room. “All this gruesome talk of murder is bound to affect my dreams.”

“We should change the subject,” announced Mrs Honey Dew.

“Yes and I know what to,
” agreed the Dowager. “We should be discussing tomorrow’s nuptials. It is not quite how I envisioned it but never mind; tomorrow Dizzy marries the Duke and that is all that counts. We need to make sure everything is ready.”

“It is only acting, Grandmamma!” Dizzy reminded her.

“Be that as it may; we still want it to be a memorable occasion with everything done properly.  You need to get into character and be the enthusiastic and excited young bride.”

             
There was only so long a girl could discuss her sham wedding without screaming, Dizzy mused and so after half an hour of pasting a happy smile on her face, she took herself off to her room on the pretext of having an early night.

“That’s right my d
arling,” said her mother as she bade her a good night. “It is a big day for you tomorrow and you will want to be on top form.”

Opening her mouth to retort Dizzy closed it again when she realised the futility of arguing yet again that it was only play acting; they would not listen no matter how many times she said it.  She would send for tea to be sent to her room and enjoy
reading her book; undisturbed.

The overcast skies of the day before had been replaced by a beautiful, warm morning filled with sunshine and birdsong. Dizzy stirred as Sarah entered with a tray laden with breakfast, wishing her a bright good morning.

“I thought you might like breakfast in bed this morning with it being your wedding day
,” she said with a grin.

“Not you too, Sarah; I had enough of that last night with everyone acting like it was real! Breakfast in bed is lovely though and means I can avoid everyone f
or a while longer, so thank you,” Dizzy responded whilst sitting up against her pillows.

“I have arranged
for bath water to be brought up in another half hour,” Sarah informed her “And then we will still have plenty of time to get you into your gown.”

“I have not given a moment’s thought to what I am to wear but it needs to be something out of the ordinary if I am to play my part to everyone’s satisfaction. Of the dresses I have brought, which do you think best fits the role, Sarah?”

“None, my Lady but there is no need for concern for His Grace has provided you with the most exquisite gown,” Sarah told her and brought from the wardrobe a gown of silver lame netting over a silver tissue slip. The body and sleeves were embroidered in silver lame with daisies and it was repeated again around the bottom of the skirts; all of which were trimmed with Brussels lace. 

             
Jumping out of bed, Dizzy went for a closer look, tentatively touching the shimmering material and examining the finely embroidered daisies. “It is beautiful!” she exclaimed “and exactly matches the daisy jewellery. I cannot believe he has gone to all this trouble. He must really want to make an impression with this house party.”

“More likely he wants to make an impression with you!” Sarah murmured but loud enough for her mistress to hear.

“He is not doing it for me!”

“So you say, my Lady but he has
gone to great expense to have the jewellery made not to mention this gone, taken your story and arranged this whole gathering around it and found a publisher for your work. Seems to me he is doing it all for you!”

“He wants me to be his mistress. Do gentlemen not spend a great deal on their paramours?”

“They do not look at their ladybirds in the way he looks at you, Lady Dizzy. His Grace is smitten with you and it is plain for all to see!”

“You are a romantic, Sarah and see only what you want to see.”

              Sarah just harrumphed and went to oversee the filling of the bath, leaving Dizzy to finish her breakfast and to mull over their conversation. There could be no doubt that Glenmore found her attractive and was looking for a physical relationship with her but unlike Sarah, she knew his feelings for her did not run as deep as love. At no time had he indicated that he wanted anything more than a short affair to amuse him during the season and to this end she was surprised he had not come to her room last night. She had certainly been expecting him and had a speech all prepared to send him back to his own room but her fortitude in denying him was not to be tested as he had not come anywhere near her. She doubted his desire to bed her again had waned during the evening so she could only assume he was playing some tactical game. Dizzy sighed; it was going to be either a long house party whereby she resisted him and her own desires or a short house party whereby she abandoned her principles and enjoyed a torrid affair which would inevitably culminate in her complete and utter ruin.

             
Standing before the full length mirror, Dizzy studied her reflection from the tip of her chestnut hair pulled back into a French plait and decorated with lifelike daisies made from silk, to the diamond and platinum necklace adorning her slender neck, down to her silver slippers that peeped from the hem of her dress. In her hand she held a bouquet consisting mainly of Erigeron blooms tied with silver ribbons. The whole affect was stunning and Dizzy did not think she had ever looked so stylish. She very much doubted she would look this fine on her real wedding day; that was to say if she ever had one.

             
The Earl of Brockton watched his youngest daughter walk down the stairs towards him and surreptitiously wiped away a tear; finding it hard to reconcile the clumsy child he had carried on his shoulders with the elegant young woman before him.  Upon reaching the bottom step however she flashed him am impish smile and he knew that his very dear, dizzy daughter was still there and always would be no matter the fine coiffure.