‘What about on top of the tower?’
‘Definitely not. The snow was untouched up there. It would have been beautiful if I hadn’t been so frightened.’
‘Mrs Lancaster, why did you come here this weekend?’ For the first time, she didn’t hold his eye, and Josephine wondered if Archie already knew the answer to his question. ‘Does either of you have a connection to anyone else here, guest or resident?’
‘Oh no, nothing like that – at least …’ She left the sentence unfinished, and Archie looked questioningly at her. ‘It was something Gerry said yesterday, as we were crossing the causeway. He told us that he came here as a child with his grandmother – you remember that, don’t you?’ She turned to Marta and Josephine, and Marta nodded. ‘That was the first I’d heard of it. Gerry doesn’t usually mention his family.’
‘So I came here as a boy – what of it? Lots of people do.’
‘Did you have any connection to Reverend Hartley before you met him yesterday?’ Archie asked. ‘He would have been living here in Cornwall when you were a child, so your paths might well have crossed. And I would advise you to think very carefully before you answer. There’s a lot at stake.’
Lancaster began to look genuinely frightened now, as the pattern of the questioning became clear to him. ‘I’ve never set eyes on the man,’ he said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. ‘Honest to God, I haven’t.’
‘Or anyone else here?’
‘No.’
‘So why did you come? I know it had nothing to do with giving to a worthy cause.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to be one of them for a change,’ Lancaster said, jabbing with his finger at the coat of arms above the fireplace. ‘Maybe I’m sick of bowing and scraping to people all year round. I saw the advertisement in the paper, and I remembered how deferential my grandparents used to be.’
‘Deferential to whom?’
Lancaster hesitated. ‘To the St Aubyn family. My grandfather was a fisherman here years ago, and my grandmother worked as a housemaid at the castle. They lived in one of those houses behind the harbour – until he retired, that is, and they had to give the house up and move back to the mainland.’
‘And they resented that?’
He scoffed. ‘No, not at all. They wouldn’t have a bad word said about the family – that was just the way things were, according to my grandmother. There was no sentiment about it, and they were loyal to the day they died – but I resented it. I loved it here as a kid. Those holidays were the only happy times I knew, and suddenly we couldn’t come anymore. We didn’t belong. So when I saw the paper, I jumped at the chance to come back here and be what my grandparents could never have dreamed of being, even for a couple of days.’
‘It’s a funny sort of tribute – to con your way into a home that your grandparents had such respect for, and cheat the family they served so devotedly. I can’t see them being proud of that, can you? Did you really know nothing about this, Mrs Lancaster?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Rachel said, and Josephine believed her. ‘As far as I was concerned, the reason we’re here is in our wardrobe, all packed up in Gerry’s suitcase and ready for a swift departure.’
‘Rachel! For God’s sake!’
‘Tell me what you mean.’
‘My husband’s a thief, Mr Penrose, no matter who his grandparents were – a conman and a petty thief, and I’m the one who should be ashamed. If she looks carefully around the castle, I’m afraid that Miss St Aubyn will find some of her most precious belongings missing.’
Josephine saw the relief pass across Archie’s face. Gerald Lancaster seemed to have no alibi for Richard Hartley’s murder, but the only evidence to that was his wife’s word against his; if the accusations of theft proved to be true, at least there would be something to charge him with and an excuse to keep him away from Rachel for the time being. Archie rang the service bell, and the butler appeared so quickly from the staircase down to the kitchens that Josephine could have believed he was waiting there to be called. ‘Lee, I’d like you to come with me and Mr Lancaster while I search his room. Get one of your staff to join us, will you?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
He did as Archie asked and the four men left the room together. ‘Bloody hell,’ Fielding said, as their footsteps drifted away. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.’
Marta got up and went to sit by Rachel Lancaster. ‘That was very brave,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. I’m just glad that he’s gone – for now, at least.’
She started to cry, and although Josephine felt every sympathy for her, she couldn’t help but recall how well Rachel seemed to know Angela Hartley; it was overly suspicious, perhaps, but the thought crossed her mind that if Lancaster genuinely didn’t have an alibi for the early hours of Christmas morning, then neither did his wife.
4
Violet slept later than she had planned, soothed subconsciously by the rhythm of the sea outside the window. When she finally came to, it took her a moment to make sense of the unfamiliar ceiling and oddly matched furniture, then she remembered the storm and the hotel, and the expression on Johnny’s face when he had learned that they would have to share a room. She turned over, enjoying the simple luxury of being warm on a cold winter’s day, and looked at her fiancé in the next bed. Johnny was every bit as dead to the world as she had been, and it was nice to have him at her mercy for once, unselfconscious and without the distraction of trying to please her. He looked so young in his sleep, with a lock of fair hair fallen forward over his eyes and his arm outstretched on the pillow, but it was a strong face as well as a handsome one, she thought – definitely a view she could get used to, and not a bad start to Christmas Day.
A smell of bacon and toast from downstairs tempted her out of bed, and she pulled on her dressing gown and tiptoed across the floor, hoping that they hadn’t missed breakfast. Her handbag was by the dressing table, and she sat down in front of the mirror to redo her hair and put some lipstick on before Johnny woke up. The fire that had been so welcome the night before had long died down, but she had remembered to hang the wet clothes they had arrived in by the grate when it was at its fiercest and now she was pleased to find them nearly dry. After supper, they had undressed shyly in the dark, and Johnny’s shirt and trousers were thrown untidily over a chair: he could knock that on the head, she thought, going over to pick them up; his mother might have been happy to run round after him, but she wasn’t. To her surprise, the clothes were wet through, soaking the arm of the chair and dripping water onto the carpet. Bewildered, she went over to his bed and shook him roughly awake. ‘Have you been out in that storm again?’ she demanded, giving him no time to register what was happening. ‘I told you not to do anything of the sort. You’re a bloody idiot, Johnny Soper. You could have been killed.’
‘I wasn’t, though, was I?’ He grinned at her, but she wasn’t in the mood to be charmed. ‘I’m sorry, Vi. I was worried and I couldn’t sleep, so I walked down to the jetty to see for myself if there was any chance of getting a boat across there safely. I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, I promise. Why would I? I’ve got you to think of now.’ He smiled again, and this time she thawed a little. ‘Do I get a Christmas kiss?’