The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (5 page)

‘Oh, yes,’ said Angela. ‘So, then,’ she said, once they were seated, ‘why did you wish to see me? Is it to do with the business at Fives Castle last winter?’

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘That was all resolved quite satisfactorily—from our point of view, at least.’

‘Then what is it?’

He regarded her for a moment, then said:

‘Of course, you understand that anything we say here must not go beyond these four walls.’

‘Naturally,’ said Angela.

‘Very good,’ he said. He hesitated, then to Angela’s surprise, went on, ‘I understand you have a niece at Wakeley Court school.’

Whatever Angela had expected, it was not that.

‘Not a niece, but a god-daughter,’ she said in momentary fear of what Barbara might have been getting up to now. ‘But yes, Barbara is a pupil at Wakeley Court.’

‘Oh? I beg your pardon. My informant was under the impression that the two of you were related. Still, it doesn’t matter. She is not the person with whom we are concerned.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Angela, relieved. ‘I take it you have a particular interest in the school, then.’

Henry nodded.

‘We do at present, at any rate,’ he said.

‘Is the place crawling with foreign spies?’ inquired Angela, not entirely seriously.

‘Not as far as we are aware,’ said Henry, ‘although if you spot any I should be obliged if you would let me know. No, our interest in the school is due to the presence there of a pupil of some importance. Have you heard of Morania?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Angela. ‘It’s a small country somewhere near Bulgaria or Rumania, if I remember correctly.’

‘That’s right,’ said Henry. ‘It’s one of those places that seem to have been stuck in the dark ages for centuries. You know the sort of country I mean: mostly agricultural with little mechanized industry, still ruled by a monarch—a Grand Duke, I should say—rather than an elected government. All very ceremonial, and of little interest to the rest of the world.’

He paused.

‘“Until now,” you’re going to say,’ said Angela with a smile.

‘Exactly,’ said Henry. ‘Until now. I said that Morania was mediaeval, but as a matter of fact that’s not quite true. Much to everybody’s surprise, their current Grand Duke has proved to be something of a reformer. Since the war he has built railways and factories, introduced new and more efficient ways of doing things, and made every attempt to improve the lot of the poorest people in the land—partly by giving them the vote.’

‘Oh, yes, I think I read something about that,’ said Angela. ‘I gather the aristocracy weren’t too happy about it.’

‘No,’ said Henry. ‘There wasn’t much they could do about it, though, since Grand Duke Feodor seems to be a pretty determined chap and is rather good at playing his enemies off against one another in order to get what he wants.’

‘Clever of him.’

‘Indeed it is. Now, as you may know, Morania has spent the past five hundred years or so in a state of more or less permanent hostility with its neighbour, Krovodar. Krovodar is another small nation, but it is in a much worse state than Morania. For the past fifty years it has suffered from corrupt and unstable governments, who have spent most of their time fighting with each other in an attempt to appropriate the country’s rich natural resources for themselves. As a result, most Krovodanians live in poverty and the place as a whole is pretty miserable.’

‘Didn’t Morania and Krovodar agree some sort of truce a few years ago?’ said Angela.

‘Yes, they did. The two countries are officially on good terms these days, although the peace is slightly strained—only to be expected considering that they’ve been at each other’s throats practically since the dawn of time. The
détente
has been largely the work of Grand Duke Feodor, who believes that a closer alliance is the best way to advance and enrich both countries. As I said, Krovodar is blessed with an abundance of natural resources, but has not exploited them for the good of its people. The Grand Duke has put a great deal of effort into securing mining and trading agreements between Morania and Krovodar, with the intent of forging a closer alliance between the two countries and improving the lot of everyone.’

‘This Grand Duke sounds like a splendid fellow,’ observed Angela.

‘Oh, he is,’ agreed Henry. ‘And of course, as is the way of things, that means that half the world are out for his blood.’

‘Dear me,’ said Angela. ‘How unfortunate. Anybody in particular?’

‘We’re not quite sure, yet,’ said Henry, ‘but there are plenty of vultures circling. As I said, in the past we haven’t generally concerned ourselves with what the minnows get up to, but of course the balance of power has changed completely since the war—and especially since the Russians decided they had no further use for their royal family and disposed of them like so much rubbish.’

‘Ah,’ said Angela. ‘Do you consider the Grand Duke to be a stabilizing influence on that part of the world?’

‘We do,’ said Henry. ‘And it’s in our interest to keep him alive as long as possible. We don’t want the Russians getting any ideas. They’re greedy enough for territory as it is.’

‘What makes you think the Grand Duke is in particular danger now?’

‘Only what he, or rather his second minister, told us,’ said Henry. ‘Given their lively history, the Moranians tend to keep a watchful eye out for any likely attempts on their royal family. The Ivanovetis have ruled the country for six hundred years or more, and one doesn’t hold on to power in a country such as Morania without having a pretty efficient intelligence system in place. I understand from this minister, Count Paul, who is apparently a sort of commoner cousin of the Grand Duke, that they have received word of an assassination plot cooked up by Krovodar itself.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Angela. ‘But why should they want to kill him if he’s been doing his best to help them? It seems a rather low thing to do.’

‘It’s perfectly understandable if you look at it from Krovodar’s point of view, though. They have a weak government and a restless populace who might revolt at any moment, so what better way to distract everybody’s attention than by causing trouble elsewhere? It’s a logical enough step to take. There is a region of Morania called Iszbicka, which is on the border with Krovodar and which was once part of that country. It has a large Krovodanian population, and for centuries there have been rumblings about returning the region to Krovodar, although nothing has ever come of it. Fomenting border trouble would be the perfect distraction from problems at home.’

‘Of course,’ said Angela.

‘According to the intelligence we have,’ Henry went on, ‘the plan is to assassinate the Grand Duke and then annex Iszbicka in all the confusion. You see, the Grand Duke’s greatest weakness lies in the fact that his line has almost died out. The last of the Ivanovetis is a fifteen-year-old girl, who will inherit the throne in default of any suitable male heirs, since the only other possible candidates are second and third cousins of the family who were exiled many years ago after being caught plotting against the present Grand Duke’s father. From the Ivanovetis’ point of view, it is of the utmost importance that Princess Irina make a suitable marriage as soon as she is old enough, and produce an heir—or preferably several. That will not take place for some years yet, however, and in the meantime, if the Grand Duke were to be assassinated then a vacuum would be created that might lead to all sorts of unpleasantness.’

‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘You think that while Krovodar was busy invading Iszbicka, the Russians would take the opportunity to invade the rest of Morania?’

‘Morania, Iszbicka, and probably Krovodar itself,’ said Henry. ‘And who knows whether they’d stop there? I shouldn’t be surprised if they decided that since they’d gone to the trouble of leaving the house, they might as well grab a couple of other countries too while they were out.’

Angela could not help laughing at his undiplomatic turn of phrase.

‘It does seem rather worrying,’ she said. ‘But what has it all to do with Wakeley Court?’

‘I was just coming to that,’ said Henry. ‘The fact is that Princess Irina has started as a pupil there this year.’

‘Oh? She has been sent there for safety, I assume.’

‘I gather they had been planning to send her to school anyway,’ said Henry, ‘but when this all came out it gave them an added motive to get her out of the country, since there is some hint that the Krovodanians want to assassinate her too. She was brought up in England until she was about ten years old, I believe, and her father is keen for her to continue her English education.’

‘Barbara said something about a foreign princess at Wakeley Court,’ said Angela, remembering. ‘But can the school protect this girl from her enemies? It hardly seems the sort of place that would be equipped for that kind of thing.’

‘Nobody in Morania knows she is here,’ said Henry. ‘The plan was carried out in secret.’

‘But then why is her name known at the school?’

Henry sighed.

‘These things soon get out,’ he said. ‘As I said, they had been expecting her at Wakeley Court before this story of the assassination attempt came out, so the news was already known to many when she arrived, even though they tried not to make too much of it. She is enrolled at the school under the name Irina Ivanoveti, and although I imagine not everybody is aware of who she is, many certainly are.’

‘That is rather unfortunate,’ said Angela.

‘It is not as bad as it seems,’ said Henry. ‘As you know, the school is in a fairly remote part of Norfolk, close to the North coast, and anybody unfamiliar arriving in the area would be spotted immediately. Besides, as soon as we knew of the danger I sent a man to the school to keep an eye on things. It was he who informed me that you had been visiting the place.’

‘Mr. Hesketh,’ said Angela in sudden understanding.

‘Yes, that’s the chap. Reggie Hesketh. You spotted him, did you?’

‘No, not at all. I had no idea until now.’

‘Good. We don’t want everyone knowing who he is. He is posing as a Latin master—as a matter of fact he is very well qualified to teach several languages, and he is one of our most capable men.’

‘It sounds like you have everything in hand,’ said Angela. ‘But what do you want with me?’

Henry looked uncomfortable.

‘I don’t like it, Angela,’ he said. ‘Looking at it objectively, the whole thing might be a mare’s nest, since we’ve received no intelligence ourselves of anything bubbling under the surface in that part of the world, and to tell the truth the Moranians do tend to be a bit over-sensitive about what they perceive as threats to their safety, so we generally don’t pay too much attention. Still, I’ve been in this job a long time and learnt to trust my instincts, and I’ve a feeling in my bones that something’s not right, although I couldn’t tell you what. I feel as though I haven’t been told the whole story—that something is missing.’

‘But what am I to do? You already have a man in place.’

‘True, but there is a limit to what he can do. If something is going on then we need to know what is happening at the school—not just among the teachers, you understand, but also among the pupils—and of course, Hesketh is not allowed to get too pally with the girls. The school is extremely strict about that sort of thing, and Miss Bell, the headmistress, watches the male teachers like a hawk. They’re not even allowed in the main building after seven o’clock. If Hesketh were a woman it would be a different matter, but we don’t have any women in the department who are suitably qualified. It was just pure good luck that the school happened to be looking for a Latin master and that Hesketh is so hot on languages—otherwise we’d have had to send someone to watch from the outside, which wouldn’t have been the same thing at all.’

‘No,’ agreed Angela.

‘I think something is going on there,’ continued Henry, ‘and I want to know what it is. I don’t suppose you noticed anything odd yourself when you were there?’

‘Such as what?’ said Angela. ‘Do you mean mysterious foreigners brandishing carved daggers in a menacing fashion, that sort of thing?’

‘It does sound rather far-fetched when you put it like that,’ said Henry.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Angela. ‘Facetious of me. No, I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything. I was there on a matter connected with Barbara, and so that was uppermost in my mind at the time. I wasn’t really paying much attention to anything else. However, I have been invited by Miss Bell to return to Wakeley Court next week, and I can keep an eye out then, if you like, although I don’t suppose I will notice anything that Mr. Hesketh has missed.’

‘Would you?’ said Henry. ‘That would be splendid. As you say, you probably won’t find anything out, but you may get an opportunity to speak to the girls and see if any of them have noticed anything. You’ll have to be careful about it, though. We need to keep the thing absolutely secret.’

Angela promised to do her best, and thus the matter was agreed.

The warm weather continued at Wakeley Court, which inclined the girls to be sluggish and made the teachers’ efforts to introduce a little knowledge into their pupils’ heads somewhat more difficult than was generally the case at that time of year. The girls took every opportunity they could to spend time out of doors, and on any given lunch-time the lawns could be seen dotted with blue and brown tunics, and fluttering white exercise-books, as everyone took their work outside and did it there—or at least, pretended to.

On one such lunch-time Barbara Wells could be found sitting on the grass close to the edge of the lake, with several of the members of her ‘set’. Following her near escape from being expelled ten days earlier, Barbara had been taking some pains to improve her behaviour, and had been so successful in her efforts that the only thing on which she might have been pulled up that day was the theft of a bag of apples, which she had abstracted neatly when the kitchen-maids’ backs were turned. The little group were now disposing of the evidence with great efficiency, while Barbara absently read over her History essay, which she had just received back that morning covered with rather more red ink than was admirable.