Murder at the Tea Party

by Sonia Parin

  Feeling overwhelmed by the morning’s news, Evie wished to change the subject, at least long enough to clear her head.

  Evie could come up with a way to distract herself. She knew she could. However, it seemed inappropriate to comment about the lovely weather they were enjoying. So, she settled for talking about her own well-being, which to some might seem rather insensitive… “Is there a particular reason why my grandmother took such precautions?” She’d never asked. For all she knew, the family might have received a threat or some sort of trigger to prompt them into taking precautions.

  “I believe your grandmother heard about an incident with an heiress on the West Coast and she decided she didn’t wish to spend her final years worrying.”

  Why worry when you could hire someone to worry on your behalf, Evie thought. Swinging around, she said, “I believe I am in a state of shock over Mrs. Howard-Smith.” She took a few steps, giving herself some space and came to a stop when she reached an oak tree.

  How could they find out more detailed information?

  It would surely be too soon to pay the family a visit and offer her condolences.

  “Lemon cake,” Evie finally said. “That’s what we had for tea.” Evie closed her eyes and tried to remember if Mrs. Howard-Smith had eaten any cake.

  “Individual cakes or one cake?”

  “We both had a portion from the same cake. At least, I think she did,” Evie answered. “If there had been something in the cake, I would have been affected too.” She turned and frowned. “Is that where our minds are going?”

  Tom slipped his hands inside his pockets. “Something made her sick. It could have been something she ate.”

  “In that case, we’ll want to know if she ate dinner.” How reliable would the maid at the pub be? Could Tom ask her to do some prodding? “What prompted you to come this morning?” Evie asked. “After all, people die all the time and a suspicious death wouldn’t necessarily put me in danger.”

  Tom looked into the distance. “I heard another rumor.”

  “Welcome to life in a small village.” Evie pushed out a breath. “What else are people talking about?”

  “Everyone knows Mrs. Howard-Smith had tea with you. Apparently, someone overheard her say she had to hurry off because you were expecting her.”

  Tapping her chin, Evie mused, “The committee meeting. She mentioned attending one before coming to Halton House. I assume they held it at Mrs. Baker’s Delights.”

  “According to the rumors flying about,” Tom continued, “someone warned her to take care. Why do you think they did that?”

  Evie tried not to laugh but the situation sounded too absurd. “There’s a feud of sorts going on.” She put both hands up. “While I somehow became caught up in the middle of it all, I have nothing to do with it. In fact, I tried to reason with the woman.”

  “If the police decide to look into her death, they will probably try to retrace her steps. That means they will want to speak with you.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come down to that.” It really wouldn’t do for the Countess of Woodridge to be held under suspicion. “By the way, do you have a middle name?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I feel we should play it safe. The dowagers haven’t met my chauffeur yet. I think having a different name will lessen the risk of discovery.”

  Tom looked down at the ground and appeared to inspect his shoes. His lips barely moved when he murmured, “I’m plain Tom Winchester.”

  “We’ll have to think of something. How about Royce?” Evie nodded. “Yes, I believe Royce will suit you just fine.”

  “Do I get a say in the matter?”

  “You did, a moment ago.”

  Chapter Seven

  Meet and greet

  “I’m glad to say I’m finally making some progress. I had never realized we had such a diverse group of tenants.”

  Evie and Tom strode into the Woodridge Arms and settled at a table. Evie did not fail to notice she’d drawn everyone’s attention to her and almost felt compelled to stand on a chair and formally introduce herself. “Are they still staring?”

  “You can’t blame them for being curious,” Tom said.

  “I hope they can relax and go about their business. I wouldn’t want them to feel awkward just because the lady of the manor has dropped by.” In fact, she wanted them to get used to seeing her around the village. When she’d first married, she had known she would have to meet her responsibilities to the county and so she had become involved in as many events as she could manage. Even so, her life had remained quite insulated. She’d certainly never stepped out on her own. Had times changed that much? She didn’t think twice about walking to the village by herself now. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Sara or Henrietta doing so. Although, she understood they hailed from a different era…

  “They must be curious to know what I’ll do now. As the Countess, my role had been well-defined. Now… I’m a widow and I feel I must discover what my role is. So… I guess I will have to make it up as I go.” At least, until Seth Halton grew up and took over the reins, she thought.

  “She’s coming,” Tom said.

  Evie turned slightly and saw a young woman dressed in a neat blouse and coat approaching a table.

  After visiting several tenants’ farms, Tom had begun to make hints about getting lunch and he had thrown in the extra incentive of talking with the maid from the pub who had been so informative.

  “I’ll be back shortly.” Tom rose and went to have a word with the young woman.

  Moments later, he returned to the table and introduced Meg Harrison.

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” Evie said.

  “As I told Mr. Winchester, I’m afraid I don’t have any more information. I only know it all happened unexpectedly and took everyone by surprise.”

  “So, Mrs. Howard-Smith hadn’t been complaining of an illness before last night,” Evie said.

  “No, according to my friend, she had been as fit as a fiddle. Always so busy.”

  Evie asked. “She took an interest in local events?”

  “Oh, yes. She liked to be involved. So much so, she spread out to local areas.”

  Only to tread on other people’s toes, Evie thought. “How far is Witford Hall from here?” She thought she had heard Henrietta mention the distance, but she couldn’t remember with any certainty.

  “It’s a fair distance. Close to an hour away unless you drive.”

  An hour away… It seemed odd that anyone would have agreed to allow Mrs. Howard-Smith to host the ball in the first place.

  “If I hear anything new I’ll be sure to let Mr. Winchester know. I’m sorry, it’s my half day off and I’m meeting someone.” Meg Harrison rose from the table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any more help, milady.”

  “Oh, but you were wonderful. Thank you for your time.”

  Tom walked her back to her table. As he rejoined Evie, another young woman joined Meg Harrison, evidently to have lunch.

  Tom sat down and said, “She’s going to ask her friend to find out if Mrs. Howard-Smith had dined at her house.”

  “Meg’s friend shouldn’t have any trouble getting that information.” It would only be a matter of asking a footman. “As you said, if the police find anything suspicious about her death, they are bound to retrace her steps,” Evie said. “I suppose I should prepare to be questioned.” And have a few ready explanations, she thought. “I only hope this doesn’t spin out of control.”

  “What are you afraid will happen?” Tom asked.

  “The committee ladies came across as being somewhat unpredictable. So, I’m not sure. However, I get the feeling I need to keep my guard up.” Giving Tom a brisk smile, she asked, “So, what can you recommend for lunch?”

  A wave of murmurs swept around the pub.

  “Oh, this is thrilling,” Evie said. “I believe we are in the midst of a news outbreak. How exactly does this work? Do we sit here waiting for someo
ne to approach us or do we join the others? Look, over there. That group appears to be quite excited. Oh… They are now looking toward us. I think we’re about to receive the news.”

  Tom shook his head. “If I had to guess, I’d say you are the news.”

  ***

  “The Orchard. I suppose that means they grow apple trees. I believe we have come full circle,” Tom said as he came to a stop outside a farmhouse. “The next farm up the road is Hollyhock.”

  After lunch, they had resumed their tour, meeting and greeting the local tenants who had all been polite and informative. Not a single one had complained to her, which reflected well on the agent.

  Evie looked down the lane toward Hollyhock Farm. While most tenancies were separated by cultivated land, The Orchard appeared to be an extension of Hollyhock farm.

  Evie followed Tom who’d already headed toward the gate. The rustling sound of leaves drew her attention to a tree growing on the other side of the high wall. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought she could see someone looking down at them.

  Tom gave the bell by the gate a tug. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think anyone is home.”

  Turning slightly, Evie slanted her gaze and looked toward the tree. “I think we’re being watched,” she whispered.

  “If you’re right, then the tenant doesn’t wish to speak with you. What do you want to do?”

  “We’ll walk around. I didn’t get a proper look at the outer buildings. Not that I’d be able to tell if there is anything wrong with them.” As they rounded the high stone wall, they came out onto a clearing. Neat rows of trees formed a pretty pattern that stretched down a hill. “That’s a lot of apples.”

  Tom patted the stone wall. “This looks ancient.”

  “A lot of these buildings have been around for a couple of hundred years.” Evie pushed out a breath. “Okay. If you’re not going to bring it up, then I guess I will. Who do you think spread the rumor about me inviting Mrs. Howard-Smith to afternoon tea?”

  “It’s not actually a rumor since you did invite her.”

  “Yes, but it’s not something I advertised to the whole county.”

  They continued to walk along the outer perimeter, their attention on the landscape.

  “If Mrs. Howard-Smith’s maid spoke with Meg at the pub then she might have mentioned it to someone else. That’s usually how information spreads around.”

  “I’d like to know how it then became distorted. What possible reason would people have for embellishing the truth? I didn’t poison her. And why is everyone now talking about poison? Where did they get that information from?”

  Tom smiled. “Actually, I believe you mentioned it too.”

  Oh, she had…

  “Even without knowing all the facts, if the woman had suffered from nausea, it would make sense to think of poison,” Evie reasoned. “Still, that doesn’t give people the right to point the finger of suspicion at me.”

  “You’re clearly not comfortable being the topic of conversation.”

  “I suppose I should be amused by it all. People seem to be. At least, that’s something. They’re not really being malicious about it.” Tilting her head in thought, she asked, “Is it possible they might be using me for entertainment?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a high-ranking member of society became…”

  As Tom struggled to find the right word, Evie suggested, “A subject of ridicule?”

  He gave her a small smile. “Admit it. It is far more interesting to think the Countess of Woodridge set out to solve a problem by poisoning the troublemaker than to think Mrs. Howard-Smith died from an undiagnosed heart condition.”

  Had the maid overheard the doctor providing the family with his conclusions? “How do these rumors even start?”

  Chapter Eight

  The main topic of conversation:

  feathers and pineapples

  “Caro, you’re fussing with my hair. You normally know exactly what you want to do. What’s wrong? You look puzzled.” And she’d been murmuring under her breath. Too softly for Evie to make any of it out.

  “I’m a little confused, milady, but I should soon get it all sorted out in my head.”

  “Can I help?” It would be a small gathering of five for dinner but she still needed to look presentable.

  “You really shouldn’t mind me, milady. I just thought I heard Mr. Edgar say Mr. Winchester would be joining you for dinner tonight.”

  Evie gave an insouciant shrug. “Oh, I see. Is there a problem with that?”

  Caro frowned. “Not exactly, milady. Only… Well, I thought Mr. Winchester had gone on his merry way, so to speak. In fact, I convinced myself we had seen the last of him. Now he’s back… I just don’t see how it will all work out.”

  Evie smiled at her. “We have a plan, Caro.”

  Caro stilled and gave her a furtive glance.

  Grinning, Evie said, “If anyone asks, my chauffeur’s name is Royce.”

  Caro’s lips pursed. “I see. And what if Royce is required to drive you and Mr. Winchester somewhere?”

  Evie’s grin widened. “Why would he do that? Mr. Winchester is perfectly capable of driving himself.”

  Caro rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you can see the funny side of it, but I’m really concerned. Someone should be. Think of your credibility, milady. How can anyone believe what you say when you are fibbing about this?”

  “Really, Caro. You are worrying about nothing.” Evie picked up a necklace and studied it. After a moment, she asked, “Has Mr. Winchester’s presence been talked about downstairs?”

  “That’s just it, milady. Everyone seems to be quite fine with the whole setup. In fact, I heard Mrs. Arnold mention both Mr. Winchester and the chauffeur in one breath, referring to them as separate people. Perhaps my imagination is not up to the task.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Caro. You are wonderfully creative. Just look at what you do with my hats. Creativity is practically the same as being imaginative. I’m sure with a little effort, you will get the hang of it.” Evie subjected her dress to a close scrutiny just in case Caro had decided to take her frustration out on it.

  “Will Mr. Winchester be staying at the house?”

  Evie gave it some thought and realized she couldn’t really answer with any certainty because she had no idea what Mr. Winchester had planned. “I think he might wish to remain at the pub, for the time being.” Did she even have a say in the matter? Tom hadn’t bothered consulting with her. He’d had plenty of opportunities during the long drive from London. Yet, he’d kept the information to himself.

  Caro gave a small shake of her head.

  “Clearly, you don’t approve.”

  “It’s not my place to hold any opinions on the matter, milady. I’m sure you know what’s best.”

  Evie watched Caro as she placed a black beaded headband on her head and focused on getting the row of feathers to sit properly.

  When Caro stepped back to admire her handiwork, Evie smiled with approval. Her maid really did have a special touch with mixing and matching.

  “Now to face the dowagers.” By now, they would have heard the rumors floating around the village. Evie strode to the door and turned to say something only to gasp.

  The feathers that had adorned her headband wafted around her.

  “Caro. I believe I’m molting.”

  “I’m ever so sorry, milady. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  So much for not holding any opinions on the matter, Evie thought.

  ***

  Evie entered the drawing room and found the small gathering in full swing. Tom had dressed appropriately in his tails and white waistcoat and stood next to Phillipa chatting with the ease of old friends.

  Earlier, Evie had sent Caro to ask if Phillipa had brought something suitable to wear. If she hadn’t, Evie had been quite prepared to lend her a dress. To her surprise, Phillipa traveled light but quite ready for any occasion.
>
  Sara sat next to Henrietta who appeared to be deep in conversation with a gentleman Evie didn’t recognize.

  “Ah, here is our hostess,” Henrietta exclaimed.

  “My apologies,” Evie offered. “I had a mishap with some feathers.”

  “Oh, yes… I see. And you’re still having trouble with them.” Henrietta pointed to a feather wafting down and continued by saying, “I have taken the liberty of inviting Mr. Townsend. You might not have met him. He owns Bradley Park nearby. He took it over after you returned to America.”

  Oh, yes. Evie remembered hearing the sad news about his brother dying during the last days of conflict. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Townsend.”

  “Likewise, Lady Woodridge and, it’s Everett, please. Since hearing of your arrival, I had made a point of paying you a visit sometime in the near future but then Lady Woodridge called on me this afternoon and extended the invitation.”

  “The more the merrier. You do us a great favor, Everett. Otherwise, it might only have been Mr. Winchester and us ladies.”

  “Everett’s Bradley Park used to be famous for its greenhouse,” Henrietta said.

  “It’s still there, Lady Woodridge. And still flourishing.”

  “Oh, please call me Henrietta. With so many Lady Woodridges here it might become rather confusing. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Your greenhouse.”

  Evie nodded. “I remember hearing mention of it. It’s famous for something. It will come to me.”

  “No need to strain yourself, Evangeline. Everett’s greenhouse is famous for growing succulent pineapples. I believe his family first introduced them back in the 1800s.”

  “We were by no means the first to introduce them to England,” Everett said.

  “No, but you were one of the first we knew of,” Henrietta said. “It was quite extravagant. I remember attending my first dinner party and being in awe of the centerpiece which had included a pineapple sourced from Bradley Park.”

  Everett smiled. “One of my astute ancestors caught onto the lucrative business of renting them out as a table decoration. Nowadays, they are imported. While they are far too costly to grow, we still manage it.”