than they ever suspected it was. Of course my mother died pretty young of a weak heart, so I might easily convince them I am not very strong either. That I need you to carry things for me, fetch things for me, drive me around, make sure everything is just right for my needs.’
Jake gritted his teeth audibly.
Alkmene laughed out loud. ‘I am sure it will yield something great and you will be happy we did this.’
Jake shook his head slowly. ‘I hope too that we will get the killer, I really do, but even if we do and I can clear a man whom I respect and value, I will never, ever, be happy about this.’
They whooshed through the entrance gate, seeing the house up ahead bathing in the afternoon sunshine. Alkmene gasped at its austere beauty, the many touches of refined architecture in the garden. The fountain, the sundial. The dove house. She had to explore soon and see it all up close. If she hadn’t come here on such a sad occasion and with a serious mission in mind, she would have been genuinely excited to see this place at last and meet the family she had never known. Her cousins who had grown up in India and who could no doubt share many fascinating stories about life there.
Jake parked the car right in front of the steps. Alkmene opened the door, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. ‘Remember to get out of the car like you have trouble with it. You can’t dart about like a puppy while claiming to need your driver every step of the way.’
Alkmene acknowledged that he was right and took her time getting out of the car. She put a hand on her back and used the other to shield her eyes as she glanced up at the house’s imposing facade. A lace curtain moved like someone was looking down.
Family member?
Curious servant?
The front door opened, and a butler came down the steps with a solemn expression. ‘Excuse me, but the house is not open for visitors today. We have had a death in the family.’
‘I am aware of that,’ Alkmene said, hiding her surprise that the house had apparently been open to the public previously. Families often decided to do it to collect necessary funds for restoration and upkeep, but she had not realized her own family might be in such a position. As Lord Winters had apparently owned a fortune in diamonds, such a measure would seem unnecessary.
The butler was expecting her to continue and she hastily said, ‘I am Lady Alkmene Callender, the late Lord Winters’ niece from London.’
Niece only by a percentage, but she need not tell that to the butler, she presumed. ‘I have come all the way down here to pay my respects to the family upon Lord Winters’ death.’
The man shot up straight. ‘Of course, Lady Alkmene. Will you be so good as to follow me inside? There is quite a strong wind today, which makes it rather chilly.’ He made an inviting gesture towards the open door.
Alkmene looked at Jake. ‘You can get the bags in, Parker.’
Jake’s jaw set, but he did what he was told without showing any clear signs of rebellion.
Alkmene covered the few yards slowly and with her hand still resting on the small of her back. ‘I do find travelling so very exerting,’ she said to nobody in particular, but surely the butler would be all ears. If a hitherto unknown member of a family showed up, it was usually a momentous occasion for the staff. Who was this? What were they doing here? She had no doubt they would assume her arrival was associated with a will somewhere that might benefit her.
She did feel like a scavenger again.
Inside the cool hallway she looked with admiration at the oil paintings, the mounted deer, the hunting rifles casually hung upon the far wall and over the stairs. The house breathed a true country atmosphere.
The door to her left opened, and a strikingly beautiful tall dark woman came out. ‘What is this?’ she asked in a deep, slightly throaty voice. ‘I told you we would not allow visitors in this week.’
‘Excuse me, my lady.’ The butler bowed his head. ‘This is the late Lord Winters’ niece. Lady Alkmene Callender.’
Alkmene flashed her brightest smile, then remembered she was here because of a death, and wiped the smile away again. She said demurely, ‘I read about Lord Winters’ death in the paper and felt it pertinent to travel here at once to pay my respects to his children. Especially to Anne, who wrote to me several times since your return to England.’
The woman seemed insecure a moment as if she wasn’t certain what to say or do next. Apparently she had not known about Anne’s letters. She glanced at Jake and the bags he was carrying. ‘You intend to stay here?’
It sounded cold and hostile, as if that was the worst plan Alkmene could ever have come up with.
Alkmene resisted smiling too wide again to cover up for the rudeness of this intrusion and said, ‘I came all the way from London. Quite a tiring journey. I intend to stay for a few days and enjoy the country air. So very good for the lungs, you know.’
The woman’s eyes flashed, but she gestured at the butler. ‘Have rooms prepared at once. Lady Alkmene can have the blue room.’
The butler’s eyes went wide. ‘But my lady… The blue room is… Was…’
She waved her hand again. ‘Do as I tell you.’ And to Alkmene she said, ‘Come in. You must wish to have some tea.’
She turned back into the room she had come from, calling over her shoulder at the butler, ‘Have Ms Deeds bring tea and sandwiches at once.’
Alkmene nodded at Jake. ‘You can put the bags in the blue room, Parker. Then you may move the car. The butler can tell you where to put it.’ With a careless, dismissive hand gesture, she entered the room.
It was large with golden curtains, several delicate cherrywood chairs, a desk with inlaid ivory and a large piano with music on top of it. The woman walked over and sat down. She ran her fingers across the keys producing a soft haunting tune.
Alkmene stood listening for a few moments, then seated herself in a chair. She had not been invited to, but then her back was really a little stiff from the long ride and her hostess didn’t seem intent on inviting her to sit at all.
She frowned. The woman’s behaviour was very odd. One moment she was in total command, acting like she ruled the household; the next moment her behaviour changed and she seemed insecure, as if she was only present on the scene by mistake and had no part at all in playing hostess to the sudden visitors.
There was the sound of hoof beats outside and as Alkmene looked out of the window, she saw a tall attractive young man on a black horse racing across the lawn. As he came from the shadows into the sunlight, he threw his head back as if he wanted to feel the sun’s warmth on his face. Could this be George, the younger of the two sons?
He halted in front of the house and dismounted, throwing the reins carelessly to a stable boy who had come running at the sound of his approach.
‘Helena! Helena!’ Bellowing as if he was calling for his dog, the handsome man ascended the steps in front of the house, banged the front door open, then shut, and entered the room where Alkmene sat. He only had eyes for the woman at the piano. He called, ‘The police keep saying the burglar did not have the stones on him. But that is impossible.’
Alkmene froze at the mention of the stones. Jake had said his friend Mac had been hired by George Winters to steal the stones. What on earth could George have intended with that action?
And had this woman been in on it? Was she George’s wife?
Alkmene could not recall whether George had married but then she might have missed the announcement.
At the sudden entrance the woman had stopped playing, rising abruptly. The look on her face made the new arrival fall silent. He followed the direction of her warning gaze and saw Alkmene. She smiled up at