The Mystery of Ruby's Sugar (Ruby Dove Mysteries Book 1) Page 4

  “The rather pleasant looking woman in the rose-coloured frock – it suits her even though it is a bit out of fashion – is my dear auntie, the Countess of Snittlegarth.” Lady Snittlegarth’s voluminous sleeves rippled as she flapped her arms with abandon. She must be in the midst of an excellent story. Fina warmed to this aunt, with her crown of slate grey hair, coiled like a somewhat amateur Chelsea bun atop her oval-shaped head.

  “I love both my aunt and uncle dearly,” Charlotte added in a confidential tone. Fina smiled, but wondered why she felt the need to make the declaration.

  At that moment, the Earl of Snittlegarth, making a dramatic point with his hands by the fireplace, dislodged one of the candles from the mantelpiece. In what seemed like slow motion, Fina watched as the candle wobbled like a hard-boiled egg and then catapulted off the edge of the mantelpiece into oblivion. With surprisingly quick reflexes, the Earl caught the candle, but not before it splattered tallow on Gayatri’s cocoa-coloured dress. “Oh my dear, I am so dreadfully sorry,” he said with a quavering voice.

  “Please do not trouble yourself,” replied Gayatri, whose words belied the look of frustration in her eyes. She peeled the wax off the crêpe, leaving a splotch behind. Her sister bent down to examine it more closely, nearly providing comic relief by bumping heads with Ruby, who had deftly sidled up to the Earl as soon as the candle had tumbled.

  Ruby held out her hand to introduce herself to Gayatri, then Sajida, followed by the Earl. By this time, a crowd had gathered around the fireplace to see the drama unfold.

  Ruby bent down and said, looking at the spot on the dress, “I have a spot remover for the clothes I design. Would you like me to fetch it from my room?”

  Gayatri replied, shoulders relaxing, “You’re so kind. I’ll come with you to your room.”

  “It’s highly toxic, so it is better if I apply it directly with gloves,” said Ruby. “I brewed a concentrated form in the lab in college. I wouldn’t want to leave it lying about or take a risk with it. I do need to apply it right away, so why don’t I go to my room to fetch it. Then I’ll meet you in your room to take the dress while you change?”

  “Yes. Lovely. Thank you ever so much,” said Gayatri. With that, the two of them left and the party returned to its small oases of triplets scattered about the room.

  Turning back to Fina and Sajida, the Earl said with the bluster of an angler casting about for a fish in the ocean, “Aubrey-Havelock. Tavistock… yes…”

  Quickly cutting him off, Fina turned to Sajida and said, “I heard you’ve been visiting your sister at Oxford. Have you had much chance to see London?”

  Sajida replied breathlessly, “Oh yes. I find Oxford a bore, so I try to travel down to London to the shops whenever possible. It’s not like shopping in Paris, of course, but I did find this divine number there,” she said, placing her hand on her hip.

  Fina smiled and murmured her approval, not wanting to break Sajida’s flow of excitement.

  “I have other relatives living in London as well, so I use the excuse of seeing them,” she tittered. “I hear you work with Ruby. Do you also study at Oxford? Your face looks familiar. Perhaps a party? That seems to be the only fun to be had at college.”

  “Yes – I’m reading history at St Jude’s College, so it’s possible you’ve seen me. Ruby is reading chemistry, even though her heart is in fashion design. She’s spent time studying design in Paris and Port of Spain.”

  After taking a deep puff on his cigar, the Earl cut in, clearly hoping to join the conversation. “How did you meet Miss Dove? At Oxford?”

  “No. We – ah – met in the halls of justice, you might say,” said Fina, her eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.

  Fortunately enough for her, the dinner gong came to her rescue.

  7

  As she entered the dimly lit hall, Fina glanced up at the walls of the corridor. Not surprisingly, they were lined with imposing portraits of what she assumed were the ancestors of the Sykes-Duckworths. Not a happy looking clan on the whole, she thought. Fortunately, their dour countenances couldn’t dampen the festive atmosphere of the gathering.

  Guests trickled into the dining room, including the almost-on-time arrival of Gayatri and Ruby – formal entries were apparently eschewed at Pauncefort Hall. There were, however, place cards in gold lettering. Two seats remained conspicuously unfilled, and Fina could see storm clouds gathering on the Earl’s brow as he contemplated them.

  “Curse it, where are those two young—” The clatter of feet cut him off, and in came the pair of miscreants, somewhat out of breath.

  Fina held her breath as she recognized the pale face and tightly trimmed moustache of Leslie-dashed-Dashwood. Thankfully, he was seated down the other end of the long table, and did not give her so much as a glance. The other young man must be Granville, favoured eldest son and heir. He certainly was handsome, thought Fina. His neatly groomed blond hair, fingernails and spotless shoes confirmed what she had seen of his personality in his bedroom. A ruthless jaw to match a ruthless personality.

  Trying not to look as though she had been scrutinizing the guests, Fina eased into her chair between Cyril and Julia. Ruby, Edgar and Ian sat across from them.

  Ian broke the silence – a silence that had been only punctuated by the slurping of soup. “Professor Lighton, what is your subject at Oxford? I went to the University of Havana, but I’ve always wanted to see Oxford.”

  “Politics. I am a senior lecturer in politics,” replied Cyril curtly. “That usually shuts down any conversation.”

  Rising to the challenge, Julia said, “Ah, but to the contrary, dear Professor. I believe you may find some of us, despite appearances, are deeply interested in the political world. What is your view of the colonial occupation of Egypt?”

  Cyril, his mouth full of bread roll, was able only to raise his finger in answer. Seizing his chance, Edgar glanced up from whatever had fascinated him in his lap and stammered, “What’s your interest in Egypt, Miss Aston?”

  “I was born in Egypt to a British father and an Egyptian mother. It was quite a scandal at the time,” she said, airily waving her soup spoon. “My mother died when I was quite young. My father and I moved to England. I was shunted off to many years of boarding school. I do plan to return to Egypt at some point, but the situation there—”

  At last, Cyril found himself free to break in. “That’s just it. As you say, Miss Aston, it’s a deplorable situation, a colonial occupation. The Egyptians must govern themselves. I am of the opinion that if the British do not leave, there will continue to be overt and covert violence against the Egyptian people. And that is intolerable. This Blueshirt and Greenshirt business only proves my point.”

  Crash. Plates rattled on the ivory tablecloth as Granville’s hand, clutching a napkin, came down hard. “I see we have some Bolshies!” cut in Granville with a snort. “What is the rot I hear at that end of the table?” He clearly had no intention of hearing anything, thought Fina.

  Edgar muttered under his breath, “Better than the r-r-rot at that end of the table…”

  Fina clutched at her stomach as Edgar went back to peeling his cuticles.

  “What’s that, dearest Eddie? I cannot hear you! Or are you too weak to respond, as usual?” Granville taunted.

  At this point, the rest of the family sallied forth in defence of Edgar: “Now dear, I don’t think it is fair to treat your brother that way…” said the Countess, halting abruptly, followed by “Granville, you’re squiffy,” said plainly by his sister, then followed finally by the Earl “Now it doesn’t do to talk politics over dinner, you two. It’s Christmastime after all.”

  Silence.

  Leslie, with surprising sensitivity, thought Fina, intervened to divert Granville’s attention. “I say, Granny, what did you think of that scrum we had last week? Did you see how Gableton-Fitts caught one in the back? Rough one, that, though the referee’s call was utter tosh.”

  Tension now broken, a collective i
naudible sigh permeated the room. By mutual, unspoken consent, the guests kept the conversation safely on local matters, expressing a surprising level of interest in the nearby Holy Well, which Florence Nightingale and Charles Darwin had reportedly visited in order to take the waters.

  Fighting the urge to lick the bowl of her sherry trifle, Fina distracted herself by observing – one of her favourite habits in life. Most of the guests had paired off into cosy conversations. Ian and Ruby chattered about various relatives and shared acquaintances across the Caribbean; it seemed that Ian had some connections in the Bahamas. Edgar and Cyril, meanwhile, continued to debate the continued existence of the British Empire.

  “Yes, I see your point, Professor, but you must agree with Nye Bevan’s argument about poverty. Surely that applies in the colonies as well.”

  Sniffing impatiently, like a lord who has heard the hundredth excuse from a peasant that day for the lack of grain production, Cyril said, “Bevan’s time is up. His pronouncements are all very good for England, but I hardly believe they extend to the colonies. Bakunin says…”

  Pompous as shop cats, thought Fina. She was tired of the Oxford habit of one-upmanship of name dropping.

  Turning to Julia, she asked what she hoped would not be a rude question about her clothing. “Miss Aston, I’m so looking forward to delving into your wardrobe tomorrow. I find your use of clothes that are traditionally more, er, masculine in style intriguing. Is it your signature?”

  Brushing some invisible lint off her lapel, Julia gently chided, not unkindly, “What makes you decide to wear dresses at all, darling?”

  “Oh – I didn’t mean…” stammered Fina.

  “Forgive me – I couldn’t help myself,” said Julia, as she looked into her empty dish – as if it contained answers to the mysteries of the universe. “You see, I am asked that question so very often. I have a rather pat response.”

  “I’m sorry to join that chorus,” said Fina, wrinkling her nose. “I suppose it is my interest in clothing design that drives my question rather than any judgment. I’m sorry if it’s an unfair question.”

  “Oh, hell,” said Julia, throwing down her napkin. “What’s the point of clothes if you can’t have a little fun with them?” Searching her jacket pockets, she said, “Ian, do you have a ciggy? I’m fresh out.”

  Without taking his eyes off Ruby, Ian pulled out a box of cigarettes and slid them across the table.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” said Julia, winking at Ian as he gave her an almost imperceptible glance. After igniting her ‘ciggy’ with a mother-of-pearl lighter, she turned toward her partner on the right, Lady Charlotte.

  Having clearly failed at dinner conversation, Fina settled back into her chair, ruminating about the exact nature of the relationship between Ian and Julia. She wondered if Julia were jealous. Julia had a studied insouciance about her, but she was an actress after all. Ian and Ruby were getting on like a house on fire. Ruby’s hands waved as Ian leaned toward her, a sure sign of her excitement as she rarely used hand gestures to make a point.

  Slap. It must be a family pastime to use napkin slapping to make a point, thought Fina. This time, it was the Countess doing the slapping. She began to move her bulk, gently side to side to gain enough momentum to vacate the chair.

  “Grimston, please remove the trifle. Please tell the cook I prefer her older recipe – it was too sweet,” declared the Countess.

  “But, I, I was hoping for a bit more of that delicious trifle. I thought it quite tasty,” protested the Earl, looking around the table for supporters.

  Now standing with her fingers splayed on the tablecloth, the Countess looked ready to plan out her next military campaign.

  Hmm. More to this batty Lady Snittlegarth than meets the eye, thought Fina.

  “Nonsense. It will do you good to cut back on sweets, Roger,” said the Countess with the tone of finality. The other women at the table popped up from their chairs, at attention. “Ladies, please follow me to the library for coffee.”

  8

  As they turned the corner into the library, Fina gave out a little gasp.

  Flashes of colour moved through clear glass orbs – some placed precariously atop towers of books around the room.

  Fina blurted out “Fish!” and then felt her face warm as she said it.

  No one else replied. She was grateful no one seemed to have noticed – they were apparently all transfixed by the spectacle before them. Fluttering, spinning and sashaying fish in reds, greens and blues made the room seem as if it were moving of its own accord.

  The Countess traversed the precarious makeshift fish stands with ease, halting at the largest bowl in the library.

  She began to murmur gibberish at the fish. The only word Fina could make out was ‘Snookums’, apparently the name of one of the fish. The Countess’ snub nose twitched and her lips opened and closed softly as she mimicked the large scarlet fish bobbing in front of her.

  Suddenly, her back moved to an upright position, like a fast-moving drawbridge. “Forgive me, dear ladies. I was carried away by my snookums. Please let me introduce you to my wonderful world of guppies, tetras and swordtails.”

  Looking around the room, Fina felt the warmth leaving her face – the other women’s mouths opened and closed like Lady Snittlegarth’s beloved snookums.

  “Don’t be shy, ladies. Please do have a look. Once you’re finished, let us congregate near the fireplace,” she said as she motioned to move her flock of women toward the crackling fire and emerald silk sofas.

  Ruby and Fina eased into the corners of a sofa nearest the fireplace. Turning toward the somewhat distracted Lady Snittlegarth across from them, Ruby asked, “Is this a hobby or necessity for you, Lady Snittlegarth?”

  “Please, dear, call me Alma,” she said, as she gazed at the fishbowl near her shoulder. Her small, but pleasing double chin quivered with excitement.

  With one deft movement, the Countess poured a bottle of orange flakes into the bowl, causing chaos among the three fish.

  “Let me introduce you, Miss Dove and Miss Aubrey-Havelock,” she said, without moving her gaze from the fish.

  “To whom?” asked Fina.

  “To the fish, of course,” she said with a slightly exasperated sigh. “This is Flopsy,” she said, pointing to an arrogant green guppy. “And this is Mopsy and Cottontail,” pointing to the two conventional goldfish. “Now,” she said, turning back to the two women. “Your question, Miss Dove. You see, I find fish and aquarium building just fascinating. I belong to the Royal Aquarium Society. I won best tropical aquarium two years in a row,” she said, her eyes aglow with pleasure, “though I rarely attend the shows myself.”

  “And why is that, Countess?” asked Ruby, playing along.

  “Why, I simply cannot enter the exhibition hall without being overcome with bufonophobia,” she said.

  Fina blinked.

  Ruby leaned over and whispered to Fina, “Fear of toads.”

  Lady Snittlegarth continued on, either unworried or unaware of their exchange. “I find it a soothing task, especially in the winter when one cannot garden,” she said motioning toward the window. In the darkness, Fina could just make out the soft white hummocks of snow against the panes.

  Glancing at the plethora of aquarium-related titles on the oak table closest to her, Ruby motioned to the Countess with an enquiring gesture. Nodding her assent, Ruby peered at the stack of leather spines in gold and crimson. She reached for the one that read ‘sugar plantation’ in fading letters so that it looked like ‘uga plant’. As she fingered through the volume, she asked in a calm, detached voice, “This seems an interesting topic – especially since my family is from the Caribbean. Your family has a connection, doesn’t it? Lady Charlotte mentioned it when we arrived this afternoon.”

  The Countess’ engaging smile transformed precipitously from genuine to false. She began to twist her wedding ring compulsively. “Ah – yes, of course. You must know about Lavington’s in St Kitts. Granvill
e will become senior member in the company soon. After his upcoming graduation at Oxford. I am hopeful he will steer the proverbial ship in the correct direction.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not much up on international finance,” said Ruby. Fina saw a well-worn expression of false-innocence appear on Ruby’s face. “Has Lavington’s had some trouble?” Ruby picked up the warm cup of coffee and cradled it between the palms of her hands.

  Fina sensed that she might be cramping Ruby’s style. “Will you excuse me? Gayatri looks lonely,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. Scooping up her cup, Fina retired to Gayatri’s sofa. This piece of furniture had the added benefit of being close enough to still overhear the Countess and Ruby.

  “Well, I don’t pretend to understand the vagaries of global trade in sugar cane,” said the Countess, waving her hand in the air. “I do know that something went very wrong, but I assume it must be some sort of internal management problem. Henry mentioned it in passing when he came home last year. Or perhaps a bad season?” she asked, as if Ruby could supply her with an answer.

  Fina could see her friend fighting the urge to provide the suspected answer. Ruby said airily, “I expect that must be it. I do know that there—”

  Interrupting Ruby as if she had finally landed on the correct formulaic answer, the Countess said hurriedly, “Of course, it must be that horrid competition – what’s-it-called? Dulcet & Sons. Yes, that’s it. They’ve caused poor Henry no end of trouble. Dulcet used to have an iron grip on the sugar industry there, but lately they’ve been expanding their trade into other areas and other stocks. I just hope they spread themselves too thin and go under this year.”

  Before she could stop herself, Fina cast a quick look of enlightenment at Ruby. So those papers she’d found in Edgar’s room were a report on Lavington’s competition! Compiled without Dulcet’s knowledge or cooperation, presumably. But they were still no closer to finding out why the list of assets and debts had had such a strong effect on the reader.