The Mystery of Ruby's Sugar (Ruby Dove Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  The Mystery of Ruby’s Sugar

  Rose Donovan

  Contents

  More Ruby Dove Mysteries

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  About the Author

  Gratitude

  More Ruby Dove Mysteries

  Sign up for updates and a free copy of the second book in the series, The Mystery of Ruby’s Port. Details can be found at the end of The Mystery of Ruby’s Sugar.

  Cast of Characters at Pauncefort Hall

  Ruby Dove – Student of chemistry at Oxford, fashion designer and amateur spy-sleuth. On a mission to avenge her family.

  Fina Aubrey-Havelock – Student of history at Oxford, assistant seamstress to Ruby and her best friend. Also warming to the spy-sleuth role.

  Alma, Countess of Snittlegarth (Lady Snittlegarth) – Wife of Roger, lover of tropical fish. Aunt to Charlotte, Edgar and Granville.

  Roger, Earl of Snittlegarth (Lord Snittlegarth) – Husband of Alma, lover of the Yuletide season. Uncle to Charlotte, Edgar and Granville.

  Charlotte Sykes-Duckworth – Daughter of Henry Sykes-Duckworth, Earl of Malvern. Niece of Alma and Roger. Keeper of Pauncefort Hall.

  Granville Sykes-Duckworth – Elder son of Henry Sykes-Duckworth, Earl of Malvern. Nephew of Alma and Roger. Lover of fascism. Set to take the reins of the family’s sugar empire.

  Edgar Sykes-Duckworth – Younger son of Henry Sykes-Duckworth, Earl of Malvern. Nephew of Alma and Roger. Student at Oxford. Acolyte of Cyril Lighton.

  Gayatri Badarur – Student of medicine at Oxford. Older sister to Sajida.

  Sajida Badarur – Fun-loving Princess from Tezpur. Younger sister to Gayatri.

  Leslie Dashwood – Close friend to Granville. Thorough rotter.

  Julia Aston – Actor and smashing fashion plate. Lover of many people.

  Ian Clavering – Theatre producer and also a smashing fashion plate.

  Cyril Lighton – Don of politics at Balliol College, Oxford. Mentor to Edgar. An irritating leftist.

  Charles Frett – General factotum at Pauncefort Hall. Has a past.

  Mabel Lynn – Long-time cook at Pauncefort Hall.

  Mary – House- and kitchen-maid at Pauncefort Hall.

  Grayling – Cheeky tuxedo cat who rules the roost at Pauncefort Hall.

  1

  The gingerbread snapped between her fingers. She dunked the half biscuit in her tea and rescued it before it dissolved in the taupe liquid.

  Fina Aubrey-Havelock wiped away the steam spreading across the window. She peered out into the inky winter dark. A few windows still glowed with pinpricks of candlelight from across the quad. Tentative snowflakes fell against the pane before being spun into oblivion by a small puff of wind.

  She sighed, glancing at the clock on the mantel. Three am. Six hours left to finish this ghastly paper. She smiled to herself, knowing that a completed treatise on a little-known, frightful colonial general meant the start of the winter holiday. Not that there would be much time for luxuriating in the delicious lassitude made so precious by the impending return of the next term. But the holiday would be thrilling nonetheless. She was quite sure of that.

  Drawn away from her reverie by the crackle of her candle’s flame, Fina buckled down to complete her task. Two hours later, she shuffled her stack of papers into a neat square and laid it upon the desk as if it were a sleeping kitten. Crawling under her icy but ample counterpane, she drifted into a luscious sleep, interrupted only by the occasional plopping of snow piles sliding from the overhang of her window.

  “Fina, Fina! Wake up, Fina!”

  Fina’s heavy lids peeled back slowly, squinting at her friend. The light streaming through the curtains enveloped her in a halo.

  “Urgh. Ruby. What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock,” Ruby answered. “You must move if you want to submit that paper!”

  Fina sat up, and then flopped down again with a groan. Ruby giggled, smoothing her own hair as she gazed at Fina’s dishevelled mane. “I forgot how much you love the mornings!” she said.

  “Where’s your masterpiece?” Ruby twirled around the room until she spied the precious cargo on the desk. “I’m dressed, so I will dash across the quad to submit it for you. In the meantime, you should bathe and pack. We need to catch the 11:25 to Great Malvern if we’re to arrive at Pauncefort Hall on time.”

  “What? Pauncefort Hall? I thought we were going to see Julia Aston this afternoon, at her flat in Chelsea. Don’t tell me she’s changed her mind? I was so looking forward to taking off my scholar’s mortarboard and putting on a more fashionable creation, something better suited to a seamstress. Perhaps that lovely little Valois toque with the ostrich feather.”

  Ruby laughed. “The ink’s barely dry on your history paper, and already you’re back in the world of haute couture! Anyway, we’re still engaged to work on Julia’s wardrobe, but circumstances have changed. She telegraphed me yesterday, saying she’d been invited to spend Christmas at the Hall. She motored down last Tuesday – how she keeps warm in that little Morris, I can’t imagine – and apparently she’s been singing our praises to her host, Lady Charlotte Sykes-Duckworth. Or should I say, her dear, her very dear friend, Lady Charlotte Sykes-Duckworth,” said Ruby, allowing a note of mockery to enter her voice as she imitated Julia’s theatrical delivery. “When Lady Charlotte heard that we would be coming down to designing Julia’s frocks for the next season, including the gown for her film premiere in the new year, she was – reading between the lines of the telegram – simply wild with jealousy. Now she wants us to come down to Pauncefort and sort out her wardrobe, too.”

  “Another client? But how marvellous,” said Fina, sitting up, her drowsiness forgotten.

  “Yes, and she wants me to design at least two dresses. At this rate, I shall struggle to get through that crystallography course next term; I’ll be too busy studying the Paris catalogues.”

  Fina smiled to herself. In all the time she had known her friend, Ruby had never once struggled with her studies at Oxford. Her chemistry papers seemed to materialise, fully formed and on time, without any visible effort on her part.

  “That’s not all,” added Ruby. She leaned forward confidentially. “When I mentioned Pauncefort to a certain person – you know who I mean – they said that while we’re there, we might perhaps be able to carry out an assignment that would help our cause.”

  “What sort of assignment?”

  “Full details will be offered once we’re on the train,” said Ruby, tugging at Fina’s eiderdown. “Come on, lazy bones. Pack a case and meet me at my room at 10:30. Sharp!”

  With that, she scooped up the sheaf of papers and glided out of
the room. In the ensuing snow-muffled silence, Fina felt the devilish gremlin of lethargy lulling her back to sleep.

  Shaking her head, she got up and marched to the bathroom – determined not to be dishevelled when they arrived at Pauncefort Hall. The bracing air and tepid water of the bath revived her, and she sighed in pleasant anticipation of the weekend.

  Breakfast beckoned, but the Great Malvern train wouldn’t wait. When she returned to her room, she flung open the doors to her small wardrobe. With one deft movement, she emptied it completely. She had a small selection of clothes, but one that was more than satisfactory. Having a dress designer as a best friend, and as an assistant seamstress herself, Fina certainly had clothes that fitted and suited her personality. They were clean, minimal and a perfectly tailored fit.

  She selected a warm, cream-coloured silk blouse, with a line of tiny buttons along a mutton sleeve. Next, a charcoal grey fitted A-line skirt, with a forest green jumper that set off her auburn hair. Her favourite azure day dress, cut in a fine wool and a rather dramatic brocade tea gown satisfied her dual need for propriety and drama. A daring navy silk cocktail gown gifted to her by an associate of Schiaparelli in Paris completed her wardrobe. Rounding it off with two pairs of shoes and a rather jaunty burgundy hat, she folded each item carefully, snuggling them in her large case – reminding her of her grandfather who had given it to her on her fifteenth birthday.

  Giving a contented sigh, Fina crossed the room to fetch her dressmakers’ kit. She inserted her notebook, pen and two of her favourite books, the leather volume of Jamaican poet Una Marson’s Tropic Reveries and a collection of Irish nationalist Ethna Carbery’s poems. Gathering her kit and suitcase, she glanced around her tidy nook and strode out to meet Ruby in her room.

  “There you are!” said Ruby, outstretching her arms as if she hadn’t seen her friend in years. “Not a minute to lose,” she said, breaking into a gentle trot down the hallway.

  The station was a brief ten-minute walk from the college. The pavement was icy enough that she had to tread gingerly, which made her feel rather silly – tiptoeing on the balls of her feet like a small prancing dog. Shivering from the cold and excitement, they reached the platform.

  Releasing their heavy loads with a thud on a nearby bench, they rubbed their gloved hands together and stamped their feet. Ruby, dressed to perfection – as always, Fina thought – had on her signature dove-grey travelling suit underneath a long camel overcoat. Melted snowflakes dotted her grey fedora, topped with a slash of finely lined peacock blue. It was daring yet somehow entirely subtle. Indeed, that was precisely how she would describe her friend and collaborator.

  Once on the train, they ensconced themselves in a corner table for a late breakfast. Fina soon found herself munching happily on a thick slice of toast, slathered with a generous portion of marmalade.

  “Mhm, that’s delicious,” said Ruby, sipping her tea. Then she placed her cup in its saucer as if it were the final piece of a puzzle. She let out a long breath, pursing her lips into an oval.

  Fina cocked her head to one side. “Why the sigh?”

  Ruby gifted her with a wan smile. “Oh, I’m actually quite pleased. We have two clients, both of whom travel in exalted circles. But I’ve a feeling that this weekend may prove to be a challenging one for us.” Looking as if she had convinced herself that they were up for the challenge, she steeled herself and continued.

  “Let’s begin with Julia Aston – you saw her last spring at the Gaiety in My Word, Melinda!, didn’t you? Well, rumour has it that she’s not the easiest leading lady to work with. I believe half the reason she’s asked us to look over her wardrobe is because she doesn’t entirely trust the costume designers on this new film. It’s her first, and she has her eye on Hollywood, you know. Luckily for us, the picture is set in the modern era, so we won’t have to bother with a costume drama.”

  “Have you met her?”

  “I was introduced to her once at a party for one of her shows. She is somewhat abrupt and yet…” Ruby halted, looking at her teacup in distaste.

  “Is there something wrong with the tea?” asked Fina.

  Ruby shook her head. “It’s strange, that. People as blunt as she is usually rub me up the wrong way.”

  Fina said, “You seem to like me and I’m rather blunt.”

  “Aha! You have me there, dearest one. But you do it for all the right reasons. And you can wax lyrical when you want to, I’ve noticed,” said Ruby, emitting her hallmark giggle with little hiccoughs in between. “In any case,” she added, “it seems to add to her charm. She shouldn’t be too dreadful to work for if her existing wardrobe is anything to go by – positively edgy – exactly our cup of tea,” said Ruby, raising her cup in a salute to Fina. She nibbled on her piece of toast and gave a contented look out the window.

  “Yes,” said Fina, “I believe I saw her photograph in Tatler last month, and she was wearing the most divine day dress. But I don’t believe I know her bosom-friend – what did you say her name was?”

  “Charlotte Sykes-Duckworth,” murmured Ruby. “Did you never hear of her from Edgar Sykes-Duckworth? He’s at Balliol, so you may have bumped into him on your way to the Sheldonian.”

  “My dear, we hardly mix in the same circles! I suppose he’s her brother? I never saw him with any other member of his family. He always seemed to be very wrapped up in his studies, and his work with the Labour Club.”

  “Well, he and Lady Charlotte, plus their older brother Granville, are all installed currently in the ancestral lair, Pauncefort. Charlotte is every inch the lady.” Ruby said, with an exaggerated wagging of her little finger while sipping the remainder of her tea.

  “Evesham, fifteen minutes,” boomed the ticket collector as he rumbled past their table.

  Pouring the last of the tea, Fina asked in hushed tones, “Could you tell me about our mysterious assignment?”

  Glancing around, then leaning in to speak in her characteristically confident manner, Ruby said, “Yes. It has to do with their business in the colonies. The Sykes-Duckworths, you know, made their fortune in sugar: the head of the family, Lord Malvern, owns some plantations in St Kitts. He is ruthless, to the point of brutality. Last year, some of the workers staged a rebellion, and the Sykes-Duckworths enlisted the support of the local constabulary to quell the resistance. But it didn’t all go to plan. There were fatalities, and the plantation owners were the ones responsible. Remember my cousin I told you about, who died last year? He was caught up in it; I didn’t tell you at the time, but he was one of the casualties.”

  “Oh, Ruby – I’m so sorry.”

  Ruby took a breath and carried on. “Granville Sykes-Duckworth, the eldest son, was there with his father at the time, and he most likely played a central role – he may even have been the one to direct the violence.”

  “But there’s not much we can do to undermine him if there’s no proof.”

  Ruby’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, but there is! One police sergeant was so appalled by the sugar barons’ cruelty that he wrote an eyewitness account of the whole affair. He put it all on paper due to a heavy conscience and to protect himself against possible retribution by the plantation owners. The papers fell into the hands of the family, however. We know they brought them back to Pauncefort, though we don’t know what they plan to do with them. If the papers are published, the scandal might bring down not only Lord Malvern and Granville, but the entire sugar empire of their company, Lavington’s. It has a chokehold on the island. I suspect we’ll find out more once we get our hands on those papers.”

  “They’ll certainly make interesting reading over the toast and marmalade. And who do we give them to once we’ve got them?”

  “I’ve not got a name just yet. As usual, my brother Wendell didn’t tell me about anyone else who is involved in our cause – for our own protection. It’s entirely possible that someone at Pauncefort is our contact. I won’t know until they give me a signal. It’s also possible that they are not at Pauncefor
t, in which case I’ll find them when we return to Oxford.”

  “Well, I shall try to contain my curiosity. But one more question: where do we find these papers?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” Ruby said, her eyes puckering to mirror her impish grin.

  2

  On the platform, Fina and Ruby gripped their hats against the fierce wind as they scurried into the station. A man in a cool forest green uniform strode up to meet them, confidently, Fina noted, as they were the only ones inside the station. Though the buttons on his uniform stood stiffly at attention, she could not help but notice the rather raffish tilt of his cap.

  Scooping up their suitcases, he said, “You must be Miss Dove and Miss Aubrey-Havelock. I’m Charles Frett, your driver to Pauncefort Hall.” Ruby gave Fina her quick, but unmistakable wink.

  Murmuring agreement and relief, they hurried into the Rolls-Royce outside the station, escaping the chill from the strong wind. Fina sighed as if she were slipping into a steaming hot bath as she nestled into the soft black cushion of her seat.

  “Is there much more snow predicted for the weekend?”

  “A great deal, I’m afraid, miss,” said Charles. “I’m not sure how it will affect the guests arriving later this afternoon and evening. I hope I shall be able to drive them to Pauncefort. We have quite the guest list this weekend.”

  “Oh?” Ruby said, with the air of an ingénue. “I thought it was only the family – as well as Julia Aston. Who are the others?”