The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (16 page)

‘He most certainly is a real teacher,’ said Angela. ‘Don’t think this is an excuse to get off Latin.’

‘Of course I won’t,’ said Barbara. She reflected for a moment or two on Angela’s story. ‘What a pity Irina ran off before you could catch her,’ she said, then frowned. ‘But Angela, that’s not quite what Mr. Everich told us. He said she had been snatched by a man and dragged away by force. He didn’t say anything about her running off.’

‘That is what I wanted to speak to you about,’ said Angela. ‘It suited Everich to say that, as of course he is of the belief that Irina was kidnapped. However, that is not exactly my interpretation of things. I saw what happened myself, and the more I think about it the more it seems to me that she disappeared of her own accord.’

‘Oh!’ said Barbara. ‘Do you mean she ran away? But what about the man who took her? You said it was the new gardener. What has he to do with the thing?’

‘That’s just it—I don’t know,’ said Angela.

‘Don’t tell me you think she’s eloped with him, because I won’t believe you,’ said Barbara.

Angela glanced sideways at her god-daughter. So the idea had crossed her mind too.

‘You would tell me if you knew of anything of that sort, wouldn’t you?’ she said carefully. ‘This is no time to be protecting your friends out of some silly, misplaced sense of honour.’

‘Of course I’d tell you,’ said Barbara indignantly. ‘What do you take me for? I hope I know what’s important. I mean to say, if it was just any ordinary girl I might keep quiet,’ (here Angela opened her eyes wide) ‘but we can’t just have royal princesses running about the countryside with whomever happens to take their fancy, can we? It won’t do at all for an heir to the throne. Besides, Wakeley Court is not that sort of place. I mean, I know some of the girls have a tremendous crush on Mr. Welland, but they’d never dream of running off with him. Besides, I’m sure his mother would object.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Angela with some emphasis.

‘No, I won’t believe anybody could possibly want to run away with that man,’ went on Barbara. ‘Ugh! He was so grubby. And he always had a sneer on his face, as though he knew something you didn’t.’

‘Did you ever speak to him?’ said Angela.

‘No, I don’t think anyone did,’ said Barbara. ‘Or at least if they did, then he ignored them.’

Angela wondered why on earth Miss Bell should have wanted to employ such an unprepossessing character in the first place, but could only suppose that she must have been blinded by the name of the Marquess of Bessington.

‘I really think she
must
have been kidnapped,’ said Barbara. She hesitated. ‘I say, Angela,’ she went on. ‘You don’t think she’s dead, do you?’

‘I hope not,’ said Angela soberly.

‘I shall feel awfully bad if she is,’ said Barbara. ‘I only wish I could have liked her more than I did. But she was frightfully dull, really. Even when I teased her she never seemed to get the joke. She just said “Please?” in that foreign way of hers. To be perfectly truthful, I was only friends with her because I felt sorry for her.’

‘That’s not a bad thing,’ said Angela. ‘In fact, it was very kind of you.’

‘Do you think so?’ said Barbara hopefully. ‘I
have
been trying, you know.’

‘So Miss Bell tells me,’ said Angela with a smile.

They fell silent for a few moments, then a thought struck Barbara.

‘I believe you were sent here,’ she said suddenly. ‘You were, weren’t you? I’d just been thinking what a coincidence it was that all this should happen while you were here, but of course it’s not a coincidence at all, is it?’

‘Well, I
was
asked to keep an eye out for anything suspicious,’ admitted Angela.

‘And here I was thinking you’d come to see me,’ said Barbara. ‘A person might be offended at that, you know.’

‘I did come to see you,’ Angela assured her. ‘The question of the Princess came up after Intelligence found out I had connections at the school, but I should certainly have visited anyway.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Barbara, mollified. ‘Were you following them when we saw them in Percham yesterday?’

‘No, that was quite accidental,’ said Angela.

‘I wonder why they left the school when Irina was supposed to be in so much danger,’ said Barbara. ‘I expect they were plotting together about how to protect her and didn’t want to be overheard. But since they sent this fellow over in such a hurry after the attempt on the Grand Duke’s life, one would think he’d have managed to do a better job of looking after her, don’t you think?’

Angela turned and looked at Barbara thoughtfully, but said nothing. In fact, she had just realized what it was that had been bothering her about Mr. Everich. The attempt on the Grand Duke had been made on Friday morning, and Everich had supposedly been sent to England immediately afterwards to attend to the Princess; how, then, was it that he had arrived at the school on Saturday morning, when the fastest train from Vorgorod took little short of two days, as Everich had told them himself? Why had he lied? What could it mean? For one thing, it certainly meant that he had set off for England at least half a day earlier than he had claimed, for he could not have left Morania any later than Thursday evening if the point about the length of the train journey were true. Of course, it might be that for some unknown reason he had been sent to Wakeley Court
before
the attack on the Grand Duke had taken place, but that was not the story he had told.

Might Everich have had something to do with Irina’s disappearance, then? It would have been easy enough for him, of all people, to lure her outside in the middle of the night, since Irina trusted him implicitly. If he had told her that her life was in danger from someone at the school and that she must escape to the summer-house and meet him there, then presumably she would have believed him. He might have instructed her to go to the car with Edwards and wait for him there. That would also explain why she had seemed to be running away: she believed she was escaping from her enemies at school and going with Edwards to a place of safety. Angela suddenly remembered the bandage she had seen on Everich’s hand, and the smear of blood she had found in the summer-house. Was there any connection between the two? And if Irina had been there voluntarily then why had blood been shed?

Angela shook her head. Surely Everich had had nothing to do with the disappearance. If he had, then why was he still here when he presumably had the Princess in his clutches already? Surely he and his accomplice Edwards would have escaped as quickly as possible out of the country before the hue and cry began. Instead, Everich was still here, showing every sign of being worried and upset about the fate of his charge and making inquiries of the Princess’s friends. That was not the behaviour one would have expected of him had he already been successful in his mission to kidnap or kill her. But then why had he lied about his journey to England? It made no sense. Angela had the oddest feeling that she was looking at the problem from the wrong angle, and that a vital piece of information was missing. If she could only find that piece of information then all would become clear, she was sure of it. In the meantime, she resolved to mention her suspicions of Everich to Mr. Hesketh as soon as she could.

Far away in Vorgorod, the royal household had been in a great state of confusion ever since Friday morning and the attempt on the life of the Grand Duke Feodor. Naturally, the first thought of everybody had been to carry His Highness to the safety of his own bed as quickly as possible, and then to call in the finest doctors and surgeons in the land. An operation had been performed as a matter of urgency, in the hope of warding off the immediate danger to his life, but the surgeons had emerged shaking their heads with great solemnity, for the Grand Duke had lost a great deal of blood and it was feared that he would not last the night. Still, his customary state of good health was a point in his favour, as was the fact that he had been attended to so quickly, and everybody was now praying fervently that a miracle would occur and His Highness would somehow survive.

Unfortunately, in all the uproar, the would-be assassin had got clean away, and a hunt for him had not begun until some time later. Of course, by that time he had had ample opportunity to make his escape, and there was some doubt as to whether he would ever be found. The sheer audacity of the attempt, which had taken place in the Grand Duke’s own private park, had caught everybody quite off guard, and although all those present at the time had been questioned closely about what they had witnessed, nobody had been able to agree on who had done it. Some said they were sure they had seen a man hiding behind a tree shortly before the attack, while others said the shot had come from the top of the boundary wall. Still others said they had seen someone galloping off on horseback immediately afterwards, while one particularly excitable old woman swore that she had seen the devil himself swoop down from the sky and rain bullets upon His Highness. Whatever the case, it looked likely that the hunt would be a difficult one, and it was entirely possible that they would never know for certain who had instigated the attempt, or for what reason.

Friday night passed, and Saturday, and the doctors reported that there had been no significant change in the Grand Duke’s condition. He remained mostly unconscious, they said, although he did have occasional short periods of wakefulness in which he did not speak but at least seemed to understand what was said to him, for he had managed to blink his eyes in answer to questions. The doctors shook their heads as they spoke to the assembled well-wishers. They knew a patient’s progress in the first few days after an injury of this kind was of the utmost importance. If the Grand Duke did not show signs of a recovery soon, then they feared that even if he survived, he might remain as he was for the rest of his life: a useless invalid who might as well be dead for all the contribution he could make to running the country. For the present, then, Count Paul would remain in charge and all matters of state were to be referred to him.

Given the Grand Duke’s apparently tenuous grasp on life, many people would have been very surprised had they been able to witness an exchange which took place on Sunday afternoon in His Highness’s bed-chamber. After the assassination attempt the Grand Duke’s most trusted doctor, who had attended him for many years and whose loyalty could not be doubted, had announced his intention to assume full authority for His Highness’s care whether anybody liked it or not, and had refused absolutely to leave his bedside. Dr. Petek was a fearsome giant of a man, with enormous waving hands and a terrifying manner, and nobody dared contradict him; besides, all knew how the Grand Duke trusted him, for Petek had attended him during a dangerous attack of typhoid fever many years ago and had earned his respect and favour. On that Sunday afternoon, then, one might have expected to see Dr. Petek sitting quietly by His Highness’s bedside, watching for any signs of a change in his condition as he lay there, unconscious. Instead, he was attempting to calm a very wide-awake Grand Duke Feodor, who had just learned of his daughter Irina’s disappearance and was attempting to get out of bed, despite being swathed in bandages and clearly in no condition to go anywhere.

‘Do not be ridiculous,’ said Petek, pushing the Grand Duke gently but firmly back against the crisp, white pillows. ‘You are in no fit state to get up. I will not allow it. I am only sorry that fellow was stupid enough to talk about it in your presence. I shall have him dismissed from Your Highness’s service immediately.’

‘You shall do no such thing,’ said the Grand Duke. His voice was weak but his eyes were bright and his mind was evidently as sharp as ever. ‘You may have authority for my care, Petek, but do not presume to tell me which of my servants I may keep. I am glad he mentioned it, for otherwise it is obvious that you would not have told me of it.’

‘Of course I should not have told you of it,’ said the doctor. ‘Why, shocks of this kind are exactly the sort of thing we must avoid for you at present. You are very ill, and although we have reason to thank God that your condition is much less serious than it might have been, nevertheless it is of vital importance—for the nation as well as for yourself—that Your Highness be given the best of care and not be bothered with bad news.’

‘Bothered with bad news!’ exclaimed the Grand Duke. ‘As though this were a mere matter of a diplomatic snub from the Bulgarians or a disappointing wheat harvest! Why, we are talking about the abduction of my daughter! How could this have happened? She was sent to England specifically in order that she might be out of harm’s way, and now I hear that it has all been to no good purpose and they have taken her anyway. I will not be kept in bed at such a time, Petek. Bring me my clothes. I must get up and go to England after her immediately.’

He made another attempt to rise from his bed, but he was after all a very sick man and his outburst had tired him out, and he fell back against the pillows again, panting a little and looking very pale.

‘Sire,’ said Dr. Petek, regarding him with pity. ‘Believe me, if I thought you even nearly well enough to travel, do you suppose for one second that I should prevent you from going after Her Highness? But at present I should not even allow you out into the garden. Here, drink this,’ he went on, tipping a few drops from a little bottle into a glass of water. ‘It will make you feel better.’

‘What is it?’ said the Grand Duke. ‘I will not be put to sleep.’

‘It
is
a sedative, yes,’ said the doctor, ‘but it will not put you to sleep. It will merely make you a little calmer and more able to think clearly. Of course you wish to direct the search for your daughter, but you cannot do it yourself. I shall not allow it. Drink this and then tell me what you would have me do.’

The Grand Duke winced, for his efforts had caused him no little pain. He saw that Petek was talking sense and took a sip from the glass with reluctance.

‘There,’ said Petek with satisfaction. ‘Now we may think of a plan.’

‘Send for Count Paul,’ said the Grand Duke. ‘I must speak to him.’