The Mysterious Affair at Castaway House Read Online Free Page B

three months before they declared the Armistice. He was on the boat train to France when they held the entire battalion up at Dover for twenty-two hours before sending them to Gloucestershire, where he worked out his conscription stamping envelopes. Despite his gloomy protestations at that time, I had always considered him the luckiest of people, and even now, climbing up the steep slope of Gaunt’s Cliff, thinking of the house he had just inherited and the actress he had just married, I felt privileged once again to share a space in his sunshine.
    ‘Here we are,’ he said finally. ‘Welcome to our humble abode. It’s only half the size of the Lancaster Gate place, of course, but I hope you find it suits you well.’
    I breathed heavily, waiting for my lungs to come to rest. We were at the crest of the cliff. To my left, a railing separated us from the promenade far below, the waves breaking on the shore and the spindly finger of a pier glistening in the brisk sunshine. Ahead, the road ended abruptly and became a path leading along the cliff edge beside an ugly churned-over field. To my right, a long terrace of Regency houses spilled all the way back down the hill.
    The topmost one of these was larger than the others and painted a buttermilk yellow, reflecting a mellow light in the early summer sun. It was about six storeys high,with a crenellated roof and a pillared doorway. There was a stained-glass decoration over the door in an art nouveau style, with a text I could not quite make out from across the road. As I was peering at it, the door swung open and an auburn-haired manservant descended the steps and came down the path towards us.
    ‘Scone!’ Alec crossed the road and put my case on the pavement, where it was picked up by the servant, presumably the butler. ‘Take this up to the fifth floor, would you?’
    Scone nodded. ‘Shall I show Mr Carver the way also?’
    ‘Good idea.’ Alec ushered me on to the path. ‘What d’you say I give you an hour or so to rest, and then I can take you for a drink in the town, and head back in time for dinner at eight?’
    ‘That sounds …’ I thought of the myriad chores bestowed upon me back at home, even during my long illness. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’
    ‘Good stuff. I’ll knock on your door. Here, d’you like this?’ We were walking up the steps now; he waved overhead at the stained glass, which I could now see displayed the name of the building. ‘Mother put that in when she inherited Castaway. Loved the place, you know. Always hated London.’
    I crossed over the threshold and found myself standing on an oriental-style rug, beneath which peeped the black-and-white chequered flags of a large hallway. Sunlight beamed in coloured lozenges through the stained-glass window. There was a mahogany sideboard upon which stood a silver platter for post, and above it was a mirror, curled about with cupids and leaves. So swiftly I barely noticed him, Scone took the jacket from my arm and hungit on the row of pegs between the first and second front doors.
    ‘Dining room here,’ said Alec carelessly, indicating a half-open door to his left. ‘Scone’ll show you the rest. I’m going to take a turn in the garden.’
    He winked at me, and I watched him walk along the passageway and through a door further along. ‘This way, sir,’ said Scone, and I followed him past a gleaming brass gong at the foot of the stairs. The banisters were polished to a deep sheen and ended with a rather lovely snail-like flourish at the end. The stairs were carpeted a deep red, and the walls were hung with various paintings. I wondered if Alec had inherited the lot wholesale from his mother or if some of these were the new Mrs Bray’s touches. I wondered what her taste, as a former actress, was like.
    On the first floor there was a small landing, illuminated by a window behind the stairs, and a closed door ahead of us. ‘The drawing room, sir,’ said Scone, separating each word as if it