by Sonia Parin
“In other words, you are bored.”
Yes, Evie thought.
The condition appeared to have crept up on her.
“I think you’re headed the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not. This is about my bright idea.” They walked along the path leading to the stables and the garden shed next to it where they found the gardener, George Mills, filling a wheelbarrow with hay.
“How can I help you, milady?”
“We would like to tap into your expertise, George. We now know foxglove is rather dangerous. What other plants might be considered equally fatal?” And did they grow any on the estate? She didn’t ask the question because she assumed it would a resounding no.
George raked his fingers through his hair. “There are quite a few, milady.” He looked around him. Either because he wanted to find inspiration or because he wished to get away from Evie.
“That’s fine, George. Don’t worry if you can’t think of the names.”
“It’s not that, milady. There is a book but I don’t have it in my possession. Someone borrowed it and hasn’t returned it.”
“Who might that be? Perhaps they might allow us to have a look at it.”
“Charlie Timms.”
***
“Now will you contact the detective and tell him what you know about Charlie Timms?”
“What? Before getting the book? Don’t be silly.” Evie hurried her pace toward the roadster. “Make haste. We don’t want him to poison someone else… And, no, I am not accusing him of being the poisoner.”
She heard Tom murmur something under his breath but could not make it out. “Are you, by any chance, complaining? Considering how much trouble has resulted from people expressing their dissent, I would advise against giving any contradictory opinions. We must work as a team, or not at all. Do you think you can get into the spirit of it?”
Tom gave her a tight smile. “Are you asking me to forego all personal opinions and become your cheering squad? Rah, rah, rah?”
Evie laughed. “Nonsense. You are allowed to have opinions. Only, try to cultivate the same opinions I hold.”
He held the passenger door open for her. “You said that with a serious face.”
Pressing her lips together, Evie held on to her serious look for as long as she could.
“I feel we need to change the subject,” Evie suggested.
They made their way to Hollyhock Farm chatting about the pretty views and revisiting the subject of appropriate dog breeds.
“Before you even suggest it, I should like to state I am in no way inclined to believe Charlie Timms is a poisoner. The fact he has a book which might have assisted him means nothing. I have books on the subject and you don’t see me cavorting around the county killing people.”
Tom looked about ready to say something but appeared to change his mind.
“Let me guess, you were about to say I have been supplied with more than enough reasons to exact my revenge on a certain group of ladies.” When Tom didn’t answer, Evie added, “The less you say, the more inclined I am to believe you have something to say.”
“This might sound like an afterthought, but as the saying goes, better late than never… Remind me never to argue with you. I fear it might be a losing battle.”
Evie checked her watch. “I should have told Edgar we were leaving. Now, I’m afraid we’ll have to hurry back or risk disappointing the cook by being late to luncheon. Now that I think about it, I hope we don’t arrive at an inopportune time. I wouldn’t want to interrupt Charlie’s lunch.”
When Charlie Timms answered the door, a serviette in hand and a miniscule piece of crust on the edge of his lip, Evie apologized. “I am so sorry. We seem to have caught you right in the middle of lunch.”
“How can I help you, milady?”
Evie experienced a moment of doubt. Her confidence dwindled and then took a dive. Asking for the book would mean bringing them both face to face with the dangerous subject.
What if she had misjudged him? What if she had been wrong to give him the benefit of the doubt? What if he reacted by brandishing a revolver?
Numerous possibilities paraded through her mind.
Tom stepped forward. “Lady Woodridge is in the process of acquiring a puppy and she has heard of the embargo on a certain plant put in place by the dowager. We understand there is a book identifying all poisonous plants…”
Tom didn’t need to explain himself further.
Charlie Timms gave a brisk nod. “Aye. I still remember the episode. I must have been a lad when that happened.” He gave another nod. “I know the book you mean. I borrowed it a while back when I decided to establish the stud farm.” He stepped back and waved them in. “I’ll fetch it for you.”
Tom pressed his hand against the small of Evie’s back and gently encouraged her in.
It took some doing to get her legs to work. Evie whispered, “I worked myself into a corner just then, entertaining worst case scenarios.”
She glanced around the tidy parlor and noticed a tray on a small table. She felt dreadful for interrupting his midday meal. Taking a small step, she inspected the plate and saw that he’d been enjoying a pie.
“Here we are.”
“Oh, thank you and I’m sorry, we appear to have caught you in the middle of lunch. Is that a pie from Mrs. Baker’s Delights?”
“Yes, it is, milady. They’re a gift sent from heaven. I place an order once a week and they deliver. If more of the village stores could do that, I would be able to add an extra few hours to my week and avoid having to do the purchasing myself. I highly recommend the game pie.”
Evie exchanged a look with Tom. “That happens to be our favorite too.” Holding up the book, she thanked him. “Oh, before I forget. We wondered… the last time Mrs. Howard-Smith came to visit you, do you happen to remember what time that might have been?”
“Five o’clock, milady. I’d been chatting with Elizabeth Young from next door…”
Thanking him, they left.
“That is way too early. According to the maid, Mrs. Howard-Smith didn’t get home until late.” Where had she gone? “Just as well I didn’t give up Charlie Timms’ name. He’s off the hook.” Peering at Tom, she prompted, “Is there something you wish to say?”
“I am only wondering why you are so eager to take his word?”
“I had considered the possibility,” she thought out loud. “Yes, he might have a particular character trait. Are you suggesting I have fallen under his spell?” Evie gasped. “You are!”
“You sound offended.”
“With good reason. I have already explained my decision to trust Charlie Timms and it has nothing to do with his good looks or easy manner.”
“Good looks?”
Exasperated by his teasing and the unfair appraisal he had clearly formed in his mind, Evie hurried on head. Even as an impressionable debutante, she had never been one to flutter her eyelashes at handsome gentlemen.
Whistling a popular Al Johnson love song, Tom followed several steps behind.
Evie found herself humming along to the tune. “You made me love you. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do it… You made me want you. And all the while you knew it…”
Half an hour later, Evie groaned under her breath. They had immersed themselves in the book of poisons. And, despite reading out loud, the tune continued to weave through her mind…
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Mr. Everett Townsend sends his apologies. He realizes he might have overreacted and understands you were only making jest of the circumstances to lighten the mood,” Henrietta announced when she found Evie and Tom in the dining room. “Ah, I see you are having a late luncheon. Sara went straight to the library to make a telephone call and Phillipa needed to change out of her mourning clothes, but they should be here momentarily.”
“Would you care to join us?” Evie invited.
“Oh, yes. I’m rather famished. It’s difficult to indulge in sustenanc
e when people around you are in a state of deep sorrow.” She glanced down at their plates. “Oh, pie. My favorite.”
Evie took a long sip of wine. “Yes, we have had our share of pie today. First at Mrs. Baker’s Delights and now here. Mrs. Horace surprised us with game pie.” Apparently, Evie’s cook had been hearing far too many positive reviews of the new establishment in the village and had decided to outdo Mrs. Baker’s Delights by preparing what she considered to be a superior pie.
“And how does it measure up?” Henrietta asked as Sara joined them.
Evie leaned in and whispered, “The crust is not as buttery, otherwise, it’s quite good.” Raising her tone, she added, “We should have pie at least once a month.” She hoped the news would travel down to the kitchen, leaving her with the rest of the month to enjoy her pies in the village.
Sara laughed under her breath. “Honestly, you seem to forget she is working for you.”
“I don’t wish to hurt her feelings.” And, in the process, instigate another offensive attack against her. “By the way, Henrietta, I am so sorry to hear about your puppy.”
Henrietta looked taken aback. “My puppy?”
“The one you lost when it ate some foxglove.”
Henrietta gave her a sheepish smile. “I’ve never owned a dog in my life.”
“What? But everyone says they’ve been issued orders to never grow the plant again.”
Henrietta made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I simply wanted those silly plants out of sight. Don’t ask me why but I have never liked them. Actually, it might have something to do with my Irish nanny. She would tell me bedtime stories about fairies living inside the little tubes.” Henrietta shivered. “She never failed to embellish her tales by describing the fairies as having pointy teeth that would nibble the tip of my nose if I didn’t eat all my supper because they would know, oh yes, they would definitely know I had been naughty.”
When she finished telling her tale, they all swayed back as if released from a spell.
“How perfectly dreadful.” For both young Henrietta and the foxgloves that might have flourished on the estate.
Henrietta brightened. “Oh, I remembered what I meant to tell you when I came in. Everett Townsend has a garden full of foxglove, but they are only now coming through. He says his gardener collects the seeds and grows seedlings.”
“We can hardly include him as a suspect,” Evie reasoned. “What possible motive would he have?”
“To whom are you referring? Everett or his gardener?”
“Both, I suppose. Did he give a reason for eavesdropping on the committee ladies?”
“He did. He says women don’t realize men are always at a disadvantage because they miss out on gossip.”
“What nonsense,” Sara said. “Men have their sewing circles too. Not that they would ever admit it.”
They all looked at Tom.
“I shall take the road of least resistance and agree with everyone’s opinions.”
“How marvelous,” Henrietta exclaimed. “We have only known him a short time and we have already trained him into compliance.”
Evie begged to differ. When had her destiny changed to include an entourage of people who disagreed with her?
Phillipa strode in. “Oh, how dreadful it is to have to wear black to funerals. I am so glad to be out of those clothes.”
Evie gestured to Edgar who immediately organized another place setting at the table.
Henrietta cleared her throat. “Now that we are all here…”
Evie’s shoulders slumped. “Are you about to deliver bad news? I’m not sure I can take any more.” If Henrietta could issue an edict banning the cultivation of a plant, then… Evie felt she ought to be able to insist no bad news be shared by anyone within her household. Realizing that would take far too much effort, she abandoned the idea.
“Don’t be such a killjoy, Evangeline. I merely wanted to share a message passed on to me by Mrs. Penn.”
“Your spy?”
“Yes. She tells me their determination is beginning to dwindle.”
“Does that even matter? I thought we had already agreed they no longer have a leg to stand on.”
“I am surprised at you, Evangeline. At the start, you appeared to support an amicable resolution. Now you seem to want to rub our imminent victory in their faces.”
Why did she feel everyone had decided to conspire against her and pretend to be in opposition to everything she did and said?
“Did you end up sending the invitations?” Evie asked.
“Yes, of course. The show must go on.”
“Do I have a role to play? I should like to be involved.”
“But I thought you were busy playing ‘Keystone Cops’ with Tom, chasing down the killer? And, according to Edgar, the detective is now consulting with you.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Evie tapped her chin. She and Tom had been pouring through the book of poisonous plants they had procured from Charlie Timms and hadn’t given any thought to anything else.
If Mrs. Howard-Smith had gone to see Charlie late in the afternoon, where else did she go afterwards?
She would have been devastated by Charlie Timms’ insistence they end the affair. Did she seek the company of a friendly ear, someone she could confide in?
Someone who ended up being the wrong person…
Sitting up, Evie realized she might have found yet another missing link. This probably put her two more steps ahead of the detective.
“I wonder how one becomes a detective.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I hear the Hunt Ball is to go ahead, milady.”
Caro’s remark took Evie by surprise, so much so, she missed a step as she strode into her bedroom. Had Caro changed tactics? Or had she escalated her efforts to express her displeasure over Evie’s decisions? Would she now wait to catch her by surprise? She could almost sympathize with the committee ladies and their growing concerns about being targets.
“Yes. Full steam ahead.” Did Caro have a problem with that?
“I’m ever so glad to hear that, milady. This house needs a cheerful event. There has already been too much gloom and doom.”
Too true, Evie agreed and wondered if Caro’s remarks were meant to be a lead up to her renewed efforts to have Seth Halton living here, filling the house with laughter.
Evie decided to try a tactic of her own, using diversion to steer her maid away from pursuing whatever plot she had contrived. “Caro?”
“Yes, milady.”
“If you suffered from a broken heart, would you seek the company of a friend?”
“Of course. Usually, I have a chat with Mrs. Arnold. Despite never marrying, she’s very understanding and knows what to say.”
Yes, Evie had always had that impression about the housekeeper. “Does she listen to everyone’s problems?”
“She does. She encourages all the maids to talk through any problem they might have with her. She says it avoids confusion and complications. A problem shared is a problem halved.”
Evie waited for Caro to mention anyone else. Would Caro confide in her? Indeed, had she ever come to her with personal concerns? Evie felt she could tell her maid anything and know it wouldn’t go any further…
“And, of course, you know I would always ask for your advice.”
Evie brightened. “Oh, I’m glad to hear you say so.”
She couldn’t picture Mrs. Howard-Smith running to anyone for help. Not even the committee ladies who all obviously knew about the amorous shenanigans going on. Had they all been in on the secret? Had they all known about it without bringing it out into the open?
“You look preoccupied, milady.”
Slipping off her shoes, Evie sat down and smiled. “I’m pushing myself for answers to no avail. Tell me about your new dress. Did you find something you liked?”
She listened to Caro talk at length about the new fashions and how they didn’t feel quite right on her. Th
is provided Evie with something to take her mind off the many unanswered questions filling her head. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. The dinner table and after dinner conversations focused on recent events and the moment her head hit the pillow, thoughts about everything that had been happening cropped up and flourished in her mind, staying there during most of the night.
***
“I will be sorry to miss the ball, but I’m sure my motor car will have been fixed by then. How many guests have been invited?” Phillipa asked during breakfast.
“Henrietta probably extended invitations to fifty people. This isn’t London and as we could only really accommodate half of those people for overnight stays, she would have limited herself to those living nearby.”
Phillipa’s slightly glazed eyes suggested Evie had provided more information than she had expected.
“The ballroom is large,” Evie continued, “but hardly the size of Mrs. Astor’s. Even so, we don’t want to squash people in.”
“Mrs. Astor? Who is she?” Phillipa laughed. “Sorry, I just heard myself. I’m sure I’m supposed to know the name.”
“The Astor family is quite prominent in New York. Mrs. Astor could only fit four hundred into her ballroom so she limited her invitations to only the most elite. Over the years, it became quite the thing to refer to the four hundred. I’m not even sure they still entertain as much since the matriarch of the family died.”
“Does your family belong to the four hundred?”
Tilting her head in thought, Evie smiled. “I believe my mother attended a soiree held by Mrs. Astor but she found the woman too snooty and that’s saying something considering how snooty my mother can be. I believe she feels she has made the ultimate statement by having her daughter marry into British aristocracy. I suppose that makes me her sacrificial lamb. Just as well I married for love.”
“Do you have any idea how unusual that is?”
Nodding, Evie helped herself to more bacon. “I have been rather lucky.” Up to a point, she thought. Although, this new phase of her life appeared to be looking up.