The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (9 page)

She walked up the lane slowly, glancing about her as she did so. A low wall bounded the road to the left and right. It was broken in places, but there was nothing on the other side except long grass and weeds. Miss Fazackerley must have gone into one of the barns, then. This was starting to look very suspicious indeed. Angela came to the first one. Its door was wide open, and she could hear the murmur of voices coming from within. Obviously it would be folly to walk straight in, so she tiptoed as stealthily as she could around the building, looking for holes in the planking through which she might listen. She found a knot-hole at the back and peered through it but could see nothing. Then she tried to listen. She could still hear the voices, but they were no clearer. There seemed to be two of them: a woman and a man. Presumably the woman was Miss Fazackerley, but who was the man?

The voices continued talking for a few minutes and Angela began to feel a little silly, standing there listening. What if someone came and found her skulking behind the barn? She had almost decided to creep away quietly when the woman’s voice was suddenly raised, and Angela heard quite clearly the words:

‘Look here, I’ve told you: I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise anything more, so please stop asking.’

The voices then faded to a murmur again, and shortly afterwards Angela heard footsteps. She peered cautiously around the corner and saw Miss Fazackerley coming out of the barn, looking cross and upset. The teacher strode off down the lane and Angela waited to see who the man was. He emerged shortly afterwards—a shifty-looking specimen who walked with his shoulders hunched up and his hands in his pockets. He followed after Miss Fazackerley, and Angela was left to wonder what it was all about.

She waited a minute or two until the coast was clear and then set off back in the direction of the high street. She had not gone more than a few yards, however, when a thought struck her and she turned back and entered the barn itself. The place seemed almost dark after the glare of the day, but her eyes very quickly became accustomed to the gloom and she glanced around. There was very little to see: just a few bits of rusty machinery and a leaky pail or two, but her eyes soon fastened on what she had been seeking, for over in the darkest, least draughty corner of the barn, next to an old farm cart with a broken wheel, were the unmistakable signs that someone had been using the place to sleep in. Angela went across and regarded the makeshift bed of blankets and the old rolled-up mackintosh which formed a pillow. Presumably the man to whom Miss Fazackerley had been talking was sleeping here, then. She frowned and peered more closely at the blankets. Yes, there was no doubt of it: they were from Wakeley Court. There was the familiar ‘W. C.’ monogram which caused the girls such endless mirth, and which had prompted even Miss Bell to wonder whether they perhaps ought to have added an S. Had Miss Fazackerley taken the blankets to give to the man? It seemed a reasonable assumption. But who was he? Had he anything to do with the assassination plot? Angela resolved to speak to Mr. Hesketh as soon as she could and advise him to find out whether Miss Fazackerley was known to have any connections with Morania. Hesketh had said he was looking for suspicious people in the area, and this man seemed to fit the description perfectly.

Angela left the barn and returned to the high street. She had just emerged from the lane when she saw Miss Fazackerley herself just coming out of a nearby shop. Miss Fazackerley saw her at the same time, and her eyes widened. She must be wondering what Angela had been doing in the lane. Feeling the need to carry the situation off with aplomb, Angela went across to her boldly and said with her most charming smile:

‘Hallo, it’s Miss Fazackerley, isn’t it? I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance to be introduced yesterday. I understand you have done wonders with my god-daughter, Barbara Wells.’

She understood no such thing, but Miss Fazackerley looked uncertain, and muttered something politely.

Angela glanced about her in apparent distraction.

‘I was looking for the post-office, as I wanted to send a telegram,’ she went on, ‘but I’m afraid I got rather lost and ended up in that lane there.’

‘The post-office is just behind you,’ said Miss Fazackerley.

Angela glanced around.

‘Oh! So it is,’ she said. ‘How on earth did I miss it? I mustn’t have been paying attention. Thank you.’

She turned away, but Miss Fazackerley, clearly still suspicious, said, ‘I am going to the post-office too,’ and so Angela had no choice but to go with her.

A few minutes later they emerged (Angela thinking with some little satisfaction of Marthe’s puzzled face when she received a telegram which read, ‘
Please ignore this telegram
’) and walked back to Wakeley Court together, since there was no way for either of them to get out of it. Angela tried to make conversation, but it was difficult going, for Miss Fazackerley was an awkward, taciturn sort, and it was no doubt a relief to both of them when they arrived back at the school. Miss Fazackerley hurried off—she had made no mention of the fact that she had broken the rules by leaving the school grounds—and Angela was left to amuse herself. Fortunately, she immediately met Mlle. Delacroix, who invited Angela to her room to take tea, and they spent a pleasant hour talking about things other than school—for Mam’selle was not one of those teachers who had no other topic of conversation, which came as something of a relief to Angela after a whole day of listening to talk of school matters.

Mr. Hesketh was engaged in giving the brighter members of the Third extra Latin tuition, and did not finish until just before dinner-time, so Angela was unable to speak to him immediately. It would have looked odd had she hovered outside the classroom waiting for him, and so she could not prevent him from being button-holed by a very serious-looking Miss Bell as soon as he came out. Angela began to be a little worried that he would leave the school and go home before she could tell him of her adventure that afternoon, and went in to dinner with the thing on her mind. Miss Fazackerley was sitting at the table, attacking her plate with great enthusiasm and seeming totally unconcerned about her mysterious meeting of that afternoon, and Angela began to wonder whether she was making too much of it. Perhaps it was considered normal behaviour here at Wakeley Court to sneak out and meet rough-looking men in barns. But no—of course it was not. Hesketh must be informed, and soon.

Engaged in her own thoughts, Angela was not paying much attention to what was going on in the dining-room, but gradually she became aware that there was some sort of commotion among the girls, and she looked up to see Irina Ivanoveti just leaving the dining-room in company with Miss Finch, while everybody else looked on in surprise. Angela glanced along the teachers’ table and noticed that Miss Bell was not there.

‘Has something happened?’ she asked of Mam’selle, who shrugged.

Certain that something was amiss, Angela pushed away her plate without much regret and hurried along to Miss Bell’s study, forgetting for a moment that the headmistress had no idea of why she was really there. She arrived just as Mr. Hesketh was coming out.

‘I was just coming to look for you,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ he said soberly. ‘We have just received a telegram from Vorgorod to say that there has been an attempt on the life of the Grand Duke Feodor.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Angela. ‘Then there really
was
a threat. How dreadful. Is he—’

‘He is still alive, but gravely wounded,’ said Hesketh, ‘and it is by no means certain that he will survive.’

‘But what happened?’

‘He was shot by an unknown assailant this morning while out on his horse,’ said Hesketh. ‘He was removed to the palace as quickly as possible and is being attended by the best doctors in the country, but it’s touch and go, I’m afraid.’

‘How terrible,’ said Angela. ‘Poor Irina. She has been told, I take it?’

He nodded.

‘And how is she?’

‘She has taken the news very well, considering,’ he said. ‘She is a royal personage, however, and has been brought up to this sort of thing, odd as it may seem to the rest of us.’

‘But if what you say is true, and the Grand Duke really is in such a bad way, then she may very shortly inherit the throne of Morania,’ said Angela. ‘She will have little time for mourning in that case.’

‘She may have no time at all,’ said Hesketh grimly. ‘There is no saying whether the assassins mayn’t have sent someone here to Norfolk too. I am dreadfully worried that Princess Irina’s life may be in imminent danger.’

‘Then what can be done to protect her?’

‘I have already told Miss Bell that there is no question of my going back to the village tonight,’ he said, ‘and she has been forced to accept it. In addition, we have received a telegram from the Princess’s cousin, Count Paul, who has assumed temporary authority in the country, to say that he has sent the head of the Moranian Intelligence service to England, and this man will arrive tomorrow. It was this Everich who discovered the original assassination plot, and so he will no doubt be able to tell us more about the sort of people we must look out for.’

Angela suddenly remembered why she had originally wanted to speak to him, and quickly told him of her adventure of the afternoon. He listened in surprise, then seemed to be considering.

‘That is news to me,’ he said, ‘and rather worrying. Should you be able to recognize this man again if you saw him?’

‘I think so,’ said Angela. ‘He was fairly distinctive. And we know where to find him, anyway. He is sleeping in the barn.’

‘Yes. We shall have to be vigilant,’ said Hesketh. ‘I shall make sure the staff are warned to keep an eye out for any man matching his description, and not to let him enter the school grounds.’

‘But what about Miss Fazackerley?’ said Angela. ‘If she is in league with this man, then she is presumably a danger. Why, she might let him into the school when everybody is asleep. Oughtn’t we to let her know at least that we suspect her?’

‘I’m not certain that is a good idea,’ he said. ‘If we put her on her guard, then she might warn the man and he will get away.’

‘But we can catch him now,’ said Angela. ‘We know where he is.’

‘And accuse him of what, exactly?’ said Hesketh. ‘As far as we know, he hasn’t done anything. If we go and speak to him now, he will move on, perhaps to a better hiding-place.’

‘But does that matter? After all, surely the most important thing is that Princess Irina be kept safe from harm.’

‘It is indeed,’ said Hesketh, ‘and I think we can do that without difficulty for the moment, without needing to warn her enemies that we suspect them. Miss Bell has agreed that tonight the Princess will share her room. They are taking up a spare bed now, in fact. Irina will go to bed at the usual time and lock herself in, and when Miss Bell comes up to bed she will give a knock in code, so that Irina knows it is safe to admit her. Tomorrow we will speak to this Everich fellow and see what he can tell us. Perhaps he knows something of the man you saw. We shall also question Miss Fazackerley if necessary.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to do that tonight?’ said Angela, who privately thought that Hesketh was being unnecessarily circumspect now that the danger had proved to be real.

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But don’t forget, Mrs. Marchmont, that we are still under orders to keep this whole thing as secret as possible. Think of the panic it would cause if we started accusing the teachers of plotting to assassinate one of the girls. No,’ he went on, ‘the fewer people who know of this, the better.’

‘Then is there anything I can do?’ said Angela.

‘You might keep an eye on Miss Fazackerley yourself, if you like,’ he replied. He saw her face and laughed. ‘You think me guilty of inactivity, Mrs. Marchmont,’ he said. ‘I assure you I am doing everything I can, but there is only one of me, and there is no sense in my haring about the countryside looking for mysterious men when the person who is their target is here at the school. My job is to protect the Princess, and for that I need to be here.’

There was no arguing with that, and so Angela was forced to be content with returning to the staff common-room, where she spent the evening pretending not to watch Miss Fazackerley, who spent two perfectly innocent hours marking papers and then went to bed at nine o’clock. There was little to do after that, since most of the teachers tended to retire early, and so Angela followed suit shortly afterwards.

On Saturday morning Angela went down to breakfast and immediately saw that Miss Fazackerley was missing. She glanced quickly over towards the girls’ tables and to her relief saw Irina, safe and well, toying with her breakfast, pale in the face and deep in thought.

‘Where is Miss Fazackerley?’ she said to Miss Devlin.

‘She went off to catch the early train,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Her mother is elderly and infirm, and Miss Bell allows her to spend the whole weekend away from the school every other week.’

‘Oh!’ said Angela, wondering whether Mr. Hesketh knew about it. He might have thought differently about questioning Miss Fazackerley the night before had he known she was to be absent today. Still, at least she was safely off the premises for now, and would thus be unable to admit any would-be assassins in the dead of night.

After breakfast Angela went to find Barbara, for she had promised to take her out. The Moranian Intelligence man was meant to be arriving soon, and so Angela did not suppose that she could be wanted any more.

‘There you are,’ said Barbara, linking an arm through Angela’s. ‘Have you heard about poor Irina’s father?’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘Has there been any news of his condition?’

‘No change,’ said Barbara. ‘They’re sending her telegrams every few hours. She might be an orphan soon, like me,’ she said cheerfully.

‘Let us hope not,’ said Angela.

‘No,’ said Barbara, more soberly. ‘I don’t feel it myself since I never knew mine, of course, but I expect it must be pretty rotten to lose one’s parents if one happens to be acquainted with them. Her mother died a few years ago, you know, and so she’s only got her father. I suppose she’ll be sorry to lose him.’