Джорджетт Хейер - Why Shoot a Butler

Lady Matthews' mild voice broke into this speech. "Darling, such a lively imagination. But we really must go. Pray don't be upset, Mr. Fountain. All a misunderstanding. I'll tell my husband."

"I wish you would," he said. "I'm - most annoyed. Wouldn't have had such a thing happen for the world."

He seemed rather more put out than the occasion warranted and he relieved his feelings by turning on the butler, who had come in, and asking him roughly what he wanted.

Joan interposed. She had rung for Baker to show Lady Matthews out.

Lady Matthews was looking at Baker rather thoughtfully. It struck Felicity that the manor servants had an uncomfortable way of quietly entering the room whenever anything of importance was being said. When she was driving her mother home she remarked on this. "I think he heard, Mummy. Don't you?"

"I shouldn't be surprised," said Lady Matthews. "I'm afraid, darling, you were a little indiscreet. And Frank not in to lunch."

"Well, I didn't know they'd got another servant who crept about and listened at keyholes," protested Felicity.

Lady Matthews relapsed into silence. Her daughter was surprised to see something very like a frown on her face, but failed to get her to talk.

The frown was still there at lunchtime. Lady Matthews was unusually restless and twice murmured: "Why doesn't Frank come back? Tiresome!"

Shortly after two the telephone bell rang. Sir Humphrey, who was seated in the library, answered it and said a little hastily that Mr. Amberley was not in, and he didn't know where he could be found. Yes, of course a message would be delivered to him immediately he came in.

Lady Matthews, who had entered the room, wanted to know who was trying to get hold of Frank.

"Fountain," said Sir Humphrey. "Most odd message!"

"Well, dear?"

"I'm to tell Frank that he's gone up to London and won't be in till late. Did Frank want to see him?"

"I don't know. Quite possibly. Did he speak about the book?"

"It wasn't Fountain himself. The butler gave the message. Said Fountain was particularly anxious that Frank should know he'd gone to London and would be at his club all the afternoon."

Lady Matthews shut the door. "Very worrying," she said. "Must try and get Frank."

Her husband declared himself quite unable to see why she should be worried, and once more settled himself with his book on the sofa. Lady Matthews sat down at the desk, sighing, and rang up Carchester police station. Sir Humphrey evinced a certain surprise, for only in moments of great stress could his wife be induced to use the telephone.

The sergeant on duty could give her no certain intelligence. Mr. Amberley had been in Carchester during the morning, but had gone out with the chief constable. Since then he had not been seen.

Lady Matthews, sighing more heavily still, rang up Colonel Watson's house. The colonel was out.

"Sometimes," said Lady Matthews pensively, "one can't help believing in a malign providence."

When Amberley had not come in by four o'clock, she said that he was just like his father. This pronouncement roused all Felicity's curiosity, for matters must indeed be serious if her mother said that. Lady Matthews refused to unburden her mind either to her or to Sir Humphrey. When she absently refused first a scone, then bread-andbutter, and lastly cakes, her relatives became quite worried and hailed the appearance of Amberley at a quarter past five with considerable relief.

"Thank goodness you've come!" exclaimed Felicity. "Wherever have you been?"

He glanced indifferently down at her. "Investigating last night's affair. Why this sudden desire for my company? Can I have some tea, Aunt Marion?"

His aunt chose two lumps of sugar from the bowl with extreme deliberation and spoke without looking up from this delicate task. "Two messages, dear Frank. Burdening my soul. That girl wants you. Either the Boar's Head or the cottage. Such a disagreeable place."

Amberley looked at her with a curious little smile in his eyes. "I wondered whether she would. All right."

Lady Matthews lifted the milk jug. "That butler. At the manor."

The smile vanished; Mr. Amberley regarded her fixedly. "Yes?"

"A message from Basil Fountain. He has gone to town."

"When?"

"At about two o'clock, my dear."

"Who gave the message?"

"The butler. Didn't I say so? His club, all the afternoon."

Amberley seemed to consider, his eyes on the clock. "I see. I think, on the whole, I won't wait for tea."

"No, dear boy," agreed his aunt. "Much wiser not. Something interesting to tell you. So stupid of Humphrey! That book. You've been at sea over it."

"Entirely at sea. Well?"

"Humphrey left it at the Boar's Head by mistake. He and Felicity, you know. Calling on Shirley. Forgot it."

Amberley swung round to face his uncle. "You left it there?" he snapped. "Did she have it?"

"Now I come to think of it, I did leave it behind," said Sir Humphrey. "We went back for it immediately, however. Mss Brown gave it to me at once."

"Why the devil couldn't you say so before?" demanded Amberley. "When did this come out? Who knows about it?"

"Felicity, my dear. Told Basil Fountain. Lots of people know. Joan and that nice young man and me and the butler."

Felicity quailed before the look on her cousin's face.

"I'm awfully sorry if I've put my foot into it, but how was I to know I wasn't to mention it?"

"You're a damned little fool!" said Mr. Amberley with distressing outspokenness, and was gone before she could think of a suitable retort.

A moment later they heard the whirr of the Bentley's self-starter. The car shot off under the window with something of a roar.

Sir Humphrey recovered from the shock of his nephew's rough usage of him. "God bless my soul!" he ejaculated. "Really, I had no notion it was so important. I began to be quite alarmed."

Lady Matthews looked round at the cake-stand. "Why has no one given me anything to eat?" she said plaintively. "I'm exceedingly hungry."

"You refused everything," Felicity reminded her.

"Nonsense, my dear. Give me a scone, please," said Lady Matthews, placid as ever.

When Lady Matthews had left her that morning, Shirley found herself torn by conflicting feelings. She was at once anxious to shift her burden of worry onto shoulders that seemed to her eminently capable of bearing it, and nervous of the result. She could never quite forget that painful grasp on her wrist beside the dead man's car on the Pittingly Road. It had left a bruise, and it had given her an impression that Mr. Amberley (however kind he might be to animals) would have little mercy on persons whom he detected in breaking the law. His association with the police had made her doubly wary. It was true that he did not seem to have mentioned her presence on the scene of the murder that night; equally true that he had not given her away at the fancy-dress ball. But this forbearance had always seemed to her to be due not so much to chivalry as to a desire to give her enough rope with which to hang herself. He had been watching her from the start and not, she felt, with a kindly eye. Certain words of his still rankled. He had said that he did not like her at all, and she thought that he spoke the truth. She could never discover in him any signs of liking. On the contrary,when he was not mocking her he was very rude and never lost an opportunity of telling her that she was callow and foolish. She set very little store by his unwonted gentleness on the night of Mark's death. After all he was not a cad, and only a cad would have been anything but kind on such an occasion. Moreover, she would not put it above him to have changed his tactics with the hope of inducing her to confide in him. He seemed to her a singularly ruthless individual.