by Sonia Parin
For once, Evie did not interrupt.
“From what I understand, Mrs. Hallesberry had afternoon tea here… at Halton House.”
The detective’s tact surprised Evie. He could easily have come straight out and said the deceased had sat to afternoon tea with her.
“Yes, she and some other ladies attended a tea party organized by Lady Woodridge.”
The detective cleared his throat. “Which Lady Woodridge might that be?”
Thinking two could play at the game of evasion, Evie gave him a small smile. “The Countess of Woodridge, of course.” She threw Tom a brief glance and saw him shake his head and roll his eyes.
The detective glanced around the library. Returning his attention to his notebook, something else appeared to catch his eye. He leaned sideways and reached for a book that had been left on a small table.
“A manual of poisonous plants,” he read. “May I ask who has been reading this?”
Evie exchanged a quick look with Tom. “I have,” they both answered at the same time.
“You both read it together?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Evie leaned forward and took the book from the detective. “Since you have been reluctant to share information with us, we felt compelled to do some research.”
“And what exactly led you to look into poisonous plants?” the detective asked.
“Deductive thinking. We were aware of the symptoms suffered by Mrs. Howard-Smith and concluded her death might have been brought about by some sort of poisonous substance.”
“There are many poisons,” the detective said. “Why plants?”
“Oh, now I remember.” Evie gave him a satisfied smile. “You pointed us to the subject when you asked me if I gardened. In fact, you asked Phillipa Brady the same question.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes, indeed,” Evie said. “Detective, are you, by any chance, suggesting I might be in some way responsible for Mrs. Hallesberry’s death?”
“You must forgive me, my lady. At some point, coincidences tend to become suspicious. I believe we have reached that point.”
Evie shifted to the edge of her chair. “Have you retraced her steps after she left Halton House?”
He gave a reluctant nod. “We questioned several local ladies, including the Vicar’s wife. They all said Mrs. Hallesberry bid them farewell at your doorstep, after which, she made her way home.”
“And?”
“She went home, my lady.”
“Are you telling me their testimony is written in stone? Did any of them actually see Mrs. Hallesberry enter her house? Have you spoken to her household staff?”
The detective looked confused. Clearing his throat and appearing to regain control of himself, he said, “I would like to focus on the events which took place here. I am told you argued with Mrs. Hallesberry and threatened to have her thrown out and exposed as a conniving fraud.”
Evie gasped. “I never. I would never. Who told you such a lie?”
“I am afraid I am not at liberty to divulge such information.”
Tom surged to his feet and paced around the library, making several sweeps past the detective. Evie noticed every time he strode past him, his gaze dropped to the notebook the detective held.
She imagined Tom going through a process of collecting information as he went, one little bit at a time and piecing it together like a jigsaw puzzle in his mind.
Distracted, Evie lost herself in the thought. That seemed to pull her further away from the detective’s chatter and she experienced a lapse in focus, trailing off to a happy moment earlier in the day when she had stretched and yawned, content to wake up to a new day and quite oblivious to what awaited her.
Confirmation of another death.
“Lady Woodridge.”
Startled out of the reverie, Evie sat up.
“Everyone attending the tea said you were quite insistent Mrs. Hallesberry drink more of your tea, which happens to be a special blend.”
“Oh, yes. I believe they all enjoyed it.”
The detective read through more of his notes, and asked, “Did everyone drink from the same pot of tea?”
“I’m not sure. With a gathering of more than three guests, there is usually more than one teapot on the table. I would have to ask the butler.”
“Would you mind doing that now?” the detective asked.
Evie crossed the room and rang for Edgar who appeared within minutes.
“Yes, my lady. There were two teapots,” he confirmed.
“Satisfied, detective?”
“Not quite. Did you happen to drink from the same teapot as Mrs. Hallesberry?”
“Yes, of course. It would have been the one nearest me.” Putting two and two together, Evie gave him her most imperious look perfected over the years by observing Lady Henrietta Woodridge. “Are you trying to imply I poisoned Mrs. Hallesberry?”
“As I said, my lady, coincidences tend to become suspicious.”
“Edgar. Who prepared the tea?”
“I believe I did, my lady.”
“And did you poison Mrs. Hallesberry?”
“I believe I didn’t, my lady.”
Evie gave the detective a pointed look. “There. Are you satisfied now?”
“I do have one more request. Could you take me through the main topic of conversation?”
Tom came to a complete stop only to sink down on the nearest chair.
Oh, yea of little faith, Evie thought.
***
“I believe I am now officially a suspect,” Evie declared.
“Did you do that on purpose?” Tom asked. “The detective appeared to be perfectly satisfied with your responses but then you had to launch into a diatribe about wasting police resources on wrongful accusations and, in particular, on an innocent bystander.”
“Is this where you tell me my grandmother warned you about my colorful temper?”
“She did mention it but had difficulty explaining it. Now I understand what she meant when she described you as being somewhat flighty.”
Instead of taking offence, Evie smiled. “Is that really how she described me?”
“To quote your grandmother, “When in a fit of rage, my granddaughter has been known to induce a state of histrionics and go off on a tangent, usually pursuing a subject in complete opposition to the source of her exasperation” end quote.”
“Dearest granny,” Evie sighed. “I inherited the histrionic trait from her. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she had aspired to go on the stage and then she met my grandfather.” Smiling, she asked, “How would you rate my performance?”
“Having been forewarned, I had expected an outburst of emotions. Instead, you delivered a subdued attack focusing on the inner workings of the police force.” Tom smiled and finished by saying, “I feel short-changed.”
“My apologies. Over the years, I have acquired a certain degree of maturity but can you honestly believe the man’s audacity, suggesting I had quarreled with Mrs. Hallesberry?”
Laughing, Tom said, “I believe he tried to bait you.”
And she’d fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.
“Why do you think he did that? Surely, he’s not hoping to force a fake confession out of me.”
Tom clasped his hands and shrugged. “Mrs. Browning has been your fiercest critic. Perhaps she elaborated her tale so you would appear to have just cause to act against Mrs. Hallesberry.”
Aha! Mrs. Browning. “I wondered if you were trying to decipher the detective’s notes.”
“He had underlined her name,” Tom confirmed. “Twice. He even added an exclamation mark.”
“I can’t think why the doctor’s wife would have it in for me. I’ve only just met her.” Evie sprung to her feet and crossed over to the window. “I’m beginning to think this really is a rebellion against the titled gentry. They have been pushing for a democracy where none can possibly exist. What will they do next? Tear down any village signs with the name Halton wri
tten on them?”
Despite Henrietta raising the alarm and suggesting something had happened to someone in the village, when Evie had retired to her room the previous evening, she had entertained hopes that all would be well. However, her hopes had been dashed. Soon after settling down to her breakfast, news had reached her…
Mrs. Hallesberry.
Dead.
Even now, the news continued to spin around her mind.
“And yet, the only victims are the very people who wish to oust you from your lofty station in life,” Tom continued. “The committee ladies should let that be a warning not to cross you. Either that, or they should politely decline any offer of tea from you…”
Evie knew she should have laughed, but she really failed to see the humor in the picture he’d painted. Wringing her hands, she strode around the library. “Two deaths. Both women succumbed to the same symptoms. Are we to assume they both died in the same manner, which in turn means they were both killed by the same person?”
Tom gave a reluctant shrug. “I don’t see any harm in making those assumptions.”
“So, what else did Mrs. Hallesberry and Mrs. Howard-Smith have in common?”
“The same enemy?” Tom suggested.
“Yes, but something made them a target.”
Upon hearing the news about Mrs. Howard-Smith and discussing the apparent veil of secrecy favored by the committee ladies, Evie had proceeded to entertain the possibility of an illicit affair.
Could both women have been having an affair?
They both stared at each other without blinking or saying anything until Evie broke the silence. “No. Really?”
“It’s possible.”
Could they have both shared the same lover?
Evie swung away and strode to the window but the view failed to provide any clarity. “I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable following that train of thought. Although it would narrow down the suspects.”
Two women. One lover.
“Did you have someone in mind?” Tom asked.
“Yes, the Lothario responsible for luring two women into an affair or, assuming he also has a wife, his spouse. And, if I can take the liberty to engage my imagination, I would also consider a third suspect. Someone who is aware of what has been going on and does not approve.”
“I meant, did you have someone in particular in mind?”
“No, my suspicions are far too general. But that’s something we can work with.”
Three possible suspects. Yes, they could work with that…
The lover. His wife. Or… a shadowy third suspect with strong opinions on the matter.
“For someone who is outside of their comfort zone, you appear to do some impressive creative thinking,” Tom remarked. “Make that, deductive thinking.”
Evie gave him a bright smile. “Yes, and now I’m rather pleased with myself.”
Tom came to stand next to her. “What inspired you to think along those lines?”
Shrugging, Evie said, “The detective has been short on information so he has left us no choice. I had a spark of an idea and I went with it.” She resumed looking out of the window. “I can’t help feeling we are quite insulated here.”
Tom gave her a brisk smile. “So, there are no skeletons in the Woodridge closets?”
“None that I am aware of and now that you mention it, I might have to spend a rainy day searching through the house for hidden journals or love letters.”
Tom crossed his arms and, leaning against the window, watched her. “Meanwhile, what do you propose doing about the rumors floating about?”
“I suppose they’ll die down eventually. Silence will be my best line of defense. The police are busy retracing both victims’ steps. That should distract the gossips.” She stopped to think through the last few days. Her gaze fixed on a tree standing tall and majestic among a copse of smaller ones.
“You just had an idea,” Tom murmured.
Surprised at his insightful remark, she looked at him. “How could you possibly tell?”
“Your eyes brightened.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.”
His eyebrows drew downward. “Are you going to share your idea?”
“A part of me wishes to stay right out of this imbroglio and go on as if nothing has happened.” She watched his jaw muscles at work and sensed his growing impatience.
“You’re going to make me beg.”
“If I tell you, will I become no better than the average person who spreads rumors about?”
“No. Now, tell me.”
“There’s one man who stands out and I have personally witnessed his effect on women. The local stud. Charlie Timms.”
Chapter Sixteen
Evie inspected the hat Caro had selected for her. The band around it appeared to be secure. As did the small black cat curled up and looking quite pleased with itself. She twitched it to make sure it would stay in place. When it did, she inspected the inside of the hat. Everything looked to be in order.
She then proceeded to cast a critical eye over her leather gloves, giving each finger a slight tug to test the seams. Finding nothing wrong with them, she set them aside and tried to think what else her maid might have sabotaged.
Her eyes widened and she looked down at the heels of her shoes. A dozen scenarios which included her heels being sawed off crossed her mind. She moved her ankles one way and the other. Again, everything appeared to be in fine working order.
Sighing with relief, Evie decided Caro had abandoned her deliberate or unconscious willful tampering of her clothes.
Yet Caro didn’t look pleased.
“Is there something I should be aware of, Caro?”
“No, milady.”
Caro’s curt reply set off alarm bells. “What now, Caro? Tell me what’s on your mind and I’ll try to fix the problem.”
“It’s nothing really…”
“Usually when you say it’s nothing, it turns out to be quite something. Do you plan to ambush me with your grievances?”
“Milady! I would never… I mean, not deliberately.”
“Yes, yes. I know. Last time you said you didn’t know what had come over you. Can we try to prevent that from happening again?”
Caro gave a small nod. “Well… There has been some talk downstairs about you getting a puppy.”
Evie brightened. “Oh, yes. Has someone heard news about a litter?”
Caro’s lips pressed into a mulish expression. “If there is room for a puppy then surely there is room for a little seven-year-old boy. There, I’ve said it.”
Oh, dear…
“Caro. I will make sure to let Seth know how much you love him, because clearly you do.”
Caro gave an eager nod. “He is an adorable little boy.”
“Have you considered what your strong emotions might be trying to tell you?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, milady.”
“I believe there is someone for everyone and you might not have found that special someone, but you will.”
Caro’s eyebrows performed a little dance and then settled into a straight line. “You think I’m pining for love?”
“You probably are and that’s why you are fretting so much over Seth.” Lowering her voice, Evie asked, “Has someone caught your eye?”
Caro looked down at her hands and then away into the distance.
“There is someone!” Evie shifted in her chair and gave Caro a nod of encouragement. When her maid hesitated, Evie found herself entertaining the oddest thought. What if Caro had fallen for Tom? Caro had looked somewhat aggrieved when Tom, the chauffeur, had stepped into the shoes of independently wealthy Mr. Tom Winchester. Evie assumed her maid would perceive the change as a social barrier she would never be able to cross.
Caro’s cheeks colored. “You’re making me blush.”
“Where did you meet him?” Evie encouraged.
Shaking her head, Caro said, “I first caught sight of him in th
e village. My mother always tells me to look beyond surface appearances…”
Relief swept through Evie. Not Tom… “Oh, yes… Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Well, that’s just it, milady. He is terribly handsome. So much so, I feel quite plain.”
“Oh, no. You must never feel plain, dear Caro.” Surging to her feet, Evie nodded. “You need a new dress. Go into the village today and find something special and put it on my account.”
“I’m not sure what good that will do. He is so very good looking...”
Evie’s smile wavered. “Caro… What is this human personification of Adonis’ name?”
***
Evie pulled on her gloves and stated, “It’s personal now.”
Tom gave her a lifted eyebrow look that spoke of incredulity. “Of course it is. You are being held responsible for two deaths. Not officially, otherwise the police would have hauled you away. But the general consensus seems to be prevailing at the moment. Guilty until proven innocent.”
“Are you quite finished poking fun at me?” Evie asked, her tone full of indignation.
Tom smiled. “Yes, I think so…”
Shaking her head, she explained, “Caro is infatuated with the village Lothario, Charlie Timms. He must be held accountable for his actions.” Settling into the passenger seat of the red roadster she waved her hand, “Drive on, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Once they cleared the gates, he asked, “Which way?”
“To Hollyhock Farm. I am going to confront Charlie Timms and force him to admit to his debauchery. Assuming it is him.”
Tom chuckled under his breath. “And how do you propose making him admit to his rakish pursuits?”
“I’ll figure it out. And… please don’t mock me. Meanwhile, you could engage your resourceful mind and try to come up with ideas. My maid’s honor is at stake, not to mention her heart and my clothes.”
“Your clothes?”
“Yes, I need Caro to be happy or I’ll be facing a hefty dressmaker’s bill. Who knows what my wretched maid will do if she doesn’t find someone to take her mind off Seth.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence until Evie wondered out loud, “The neighbor I saw up in a tree might be able to help us.”