When she tried to take Mary’s hand, the child snatched away from her. “I don’t want to go with you!” she cried. “You never liked mummy anyway.”
Mary stormed off down the path, closely followed by Sheila. All Peg could do was watch, with her heart breaking in two. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“She’s had a shock, Peg,” said Gerald Sanderson. “She’ll come around.”
“She hates me,” Peg moaned.
“No, she doesn’t. Come on, let’s go the pub. You need a drink, and so do I.”
“It was good of you to come, Gerry. It’s not as if you knew Veronica.”
“She was family.”
“Well, not really.”
“By marriage then. And even if she wasn’t. You are.” He held out his arm and Peg took it, as they walked out of the churchyard and towards the centre of the town where the pub was situated. “Any news on the man Veronica went off with?”
“No, nothing. Oh, Gerry, it was so awful, how they found her. She was in a sleazy little hotel – the type that illicit lovers use – and she had taken an overdose of laudanum. He must have ended the relationship and left her bereft. Oh, if I ever find that man!”
“But you did hate her?”
Peg pulled her hand away from his arm. “I didn’t wish her dead!”
“No, of course not. Sorry, Peg.” Gerry took her arm again and made a point of putting it back in his. It felt nice, walking next to him, as if they were a couple.
“And I didn’t really hate her. I just resented her for coming into our lives and trying to take Mother’s place. She was a silly woman in many ways, with her spending habits and wish for pretty things, but I don’t think there was any real harm in her. It’s all very odd, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“First of all her brother-in-law, Arthur Harrington, returns to Midchester and takes his own life, and then she commits suicide too.”
“You think there’s some connection?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Maybe he was her illicit lover and when he died, she wanted to die too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I saw her with the man after Harrington was found dead. Besides, Harrington had been in America for twenty years or more.”
Frank Yeardley was as good as his word. In the pub a table was laid out with sandwiches and fruit cake, and everyone was given a small glass of sherry as they entered.
“Thank you, Tom,” said Peg, taking a drink from the boy.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Miss Bradbourne,” said Tom.
“Thank you.”
“Peg…” Doctor Pearson extricated himself from two of the spinsters and came over to her. “I want to tell you how very sorry I am.”
“Thank you, Doctor Pearson. You remember Mr Sanderson, my cousin, of course.”
“Good to see you up and about, Mr Sanderson.” Pearson and Gerry shook hands.
“I wanted to support Peg today, her being family and all that.”
“I’d like to have a chat with you about Bedlington Hall, if I may. I have plans for the continuation of hospital, and clearly you’re now the man to ask.”
“Not today,” said Gerry, curtly.
Pearson seemed taken aback. “I didn’t mean to be indelicate.” He looked at Peg, his handsome face reddening.
“We know,” Peg said, with a tight smile. “Anyway, I might be asking Gerry for a place to stay soon, so get in the queue.” She too coloured up when she realised what she had said and what it might imply to Gerry. “I mean lodgings.”
All lost for words, they stood silently drinking their sherry. Pearson looked as if he was just about to speak when he stopped, looking towards the doorway.
It seemed that the sun had come out, and not only that, but had brought with it a young woman of such outstanding beauty that all the men assembled could do nothing but gape. She had strawberry blonde hair, with large green eyes framed by dark lashes. She was dressed more for a wedding than a funeral, in a white muslin dress with a wide brimmed blue hat and gloves. A silk sash around the dress matched the hat and gloves.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said, with an American accent. “I’m looking for the local constable. I was told I might find him here.”
“Please, do come in,” said Pearson, as he rushed to help her. Several other men did the same, including Gerry Sanderson. Peg tutted and sighed. “May I get you a chair to sit on?”
“Are you the constable?” the girl asked, looking up at Pearson with obvious admiration.
“No, I’m Doctor Pearson. Constable Archer is around somewhere… And you are?”
“I’m here about my father but I seem to have interrupted…” She looked around. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is this a wake?”
“Yes, it is,” said Peg, stepping forward, deftly pushing men out of the way as she did so. “Who is your father?”
“Doctor Arthur Harrington. We had word he was found dead…” The girl’s green eyes filled up with tears. It had a charming affect, and a wave of men moved towards her again. Peg harrumphed. The girl was a regular damsel in distress.
“Cassandra?” said Peg, frowning. “You’re Cassandra Harrington?”
“Yes, but please call me Cassie. And you are?”
“I’m Peg Bradbourne. Your cousin … sort of. Over there is my sister, Sheila and our little sister, Mary.” The awful truth suddenly hit Peg. “Cassie, has no one told you? I did send a message but…”
“What is it? What’s happened to Aunt Veronica?”
“She died a few days ago.” Peg hesitated to give the cause of death.
“Oh my,” said Cassie. “How awful… Can I … Please Doctor Pearson, I’d rather like that chair now.”
Pearson led her to a chair. Several people sitting at the table vacated it so that Peg, Sheila and Andrew could sit with Cassie. Everyone made a big show of going about the business of eating and drinking, but it was clear that the villagers were fascinated by the goddess who had walked into The Quiet Woman pub. Mary had also come out of herself a little and stood nearby, watching Cassie avidly.
“Have a glass of sherry,” said Pearson. “It will do you good.”
“Thank you. Poor Mary, you darling,” said Cassie, holding out her arms. Mary ran into them, accepting Cassie as if she had known her all her life.
Peg folded her arms and harrumphed. Sheila kicked her under the table. “I wrote to America,” Peg explained.
“But we’re not in America.”
“I can see that,” said Peg.
“What I mean is, we’ve been in England for several months. My father wanted to come over and visit the old country. He left us in Liverpool to come here, saying that he wanted to come ahead and prepare for us to return. I never dreamed he would do such a thing. And now Aunt Veronica. She wrote to me all the time, telling me about England. I was so looking forward to meeting her.”
“You say us,” said Sheila. “You and…?”
“Mother. She’s still in Liverpool. I travelled down by train this morning, wanting to make some sense of what happened to Father before she arrived. And now this…”
“You’ve had a dreadful shock,” said Pearson. “Drink your sherry.”
“Yes, do,” said Gerry. “It will make you feel better.”
“I’m sure she’s quite capable of deciding when she wants to drink,” said Peg.
“Peg…” Sheila’s voice had the gentle warning tone it took on every time Peg was in danger of going too far. “Where are you staying, Cassie?”
“I thought to book into a hotel, if there is one.”
“Not in Midchester, but some of the ladies on Spinsters Row do let rooms,” said Peg, believing she was being helpful.
“We have six bedrooms,” Sheila said, pointedly. “Cassie is family, Peg.”
Not ours, thought Peg, disgusted by the way Doctor Pearson and Gerry Sanderson were fawning over her. “Okay,” she said, giving one of he
r tight smiles. “She can stay with us.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
You already have, thought Peg, looking miserably at Andrew Pearson and Gerry Sanderson. It was bad enough having a prettier sister. Adding a stunning American belle to the mix left Peg with no chance with the two best looking men in Midchester.
She stood up and went outside, needing to get away on her own for a while. She found herself wandering along Spinsters Row, looking at the Old Constables Cottage again. Maybe it was where she belonged. Men had never fawned over her the way they did over Sheila and Cassie. Mary also showed signs of growing up to be a beauty. She heard her father’s voice asking her gently, ‘Do you want them to fawn over you, Peg?’
“Just a little bit would be nice,” she murmured to herself. “Just sometimes.”
As she ambled slowly along the row, she saw Tom Yeardley and Percy Fletcher in the distance. They seemed to be having an argument, but when Percy saw Peg, he put his arm around Tom’s shoulder as if they were suddenly the best of friends again. Only Tom’s face belied that.
“Is everything all right, boys?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Everything’s fine, Miss Bradbourne,” said Percy. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Something about the boy made Peg bristle. There was malevolence in his eyes. “Tom, could I have a word, please? In private?”
“I know when I’m not wanted,” Percy said, affecting a jocular tone. Peg could see that in reality he was livid. There was something else in his eyes. Was it fear?
She and Tom waited until he was well out of earshot. It took some time, as Percy seemed to walk slowly, as if trying to listen to what Peg had to say. He might have taken even longer, but away in the distance Cassie Harrington stepped out of The Quiet Woman. Even a sullen boy like Percy was not immune to such beauty, so his step quickened so that he could, presumably, get a closer look at her.
“Is Percy bothering you, Tom?” asked Peg.
“No, Miss Bradbourne.”
“I think he is. If you ever need to talk about it, you can trust me, you know.”
“Thank you, Miss Bradbourne, but there’s nothing wrong.” Tom’s voice trembled as he spoke.
“Very well. If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t force you. But you know that bullies are best confronted, Tom, and I know that Percy Fletcher is a bully, no matter how many times he doffs his cap at me.”
“I’d best get back and help my dad. He doesn’t know I’ve come out.”
Peg watched him as he walked back to the pub, with his shoulders slumped in defeat. Something was amiss, but she could not put her finger on it.
She had a feeling, because so much seemed to be connected in the past week or so, that it had something to do with finding Arthur Harrington. Had Percy been there? And if so, what did Percy not want people to know? And whilst Percy might be a bully, he was not a murderer. The coroner had confirmed that Harrington’s death was by suicide.
Percy may not be a murderer but he had been known to be light-fingered.
Peg started her own walk back to town, passing by Colonel Trent’s garden as she did. The old man was digging a flower bed. As he lifted his foot to place it on the spade, she noticed he was wearing a new pair of boots.
Chapter Seven
“Tell us all about yourself,” said Sheila, handing Cassie a cup of coffee. “What do you remember of Midchester?” Mary had gone to bed soon after dinner, leaving the three older girls to talk in private in the drawing room.
“Not much at all,” said Cassie. “We left when I was about four years old, I think. America is my home now. Father had a practice in New York. He mostly dealt with neurotic rich women, but he said it paid better than some crummy hospital in the sticks.”
“What brought you back to Britain?” asked Peg.
“Father wanted to show me home.”
“Odd time, during a war,” said Peg. “Weren’t you afraid of your boat being sunk by the Germans? Especially after what happened to the Lusitania.”
“Father was adamant we come, and one did not argue with him.” For the first time, Cassie’s bright eyes became dark. She brightened again. “The captain took the necessary precautions.”
“Was your father the sort of man who would take his own life?” asked Peg.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Cassie replied. “You see… the thing is … Father and Mother lived mostly separate lives. He had his practice and Mother had her own interests. I was sent to boarding school at the age of six, and spent most of the vacations with my friends’ families. I’m afraid my father was something of a mystery to me.”
“Will your mother be coming to Midchester?” asked Sheila. “Now that your aunt is dead?”
“She said she will come for Father’s funeral. She doesn’t yet know about my aunt. I suppose I should telephone and let her know, but I can hardly bring myself to break the news. They weren’t especially close, but Aunt Veronica was Mother’s sister.”
“Do you have a beau?” asked Sheila. Peg tutted to herself.
“No, I don’t have a beau. There was someone but … well he married someone else.”
“You were jilted?” asked Peg.
“Peg!” Not for the first time, Sheila surreptitiously kicked her sister in the shins.
“No, I broke it off. I wasn’t ready to marry. I think I wanted to come to England and find out who I am before giving up my name altogether. Does that sound silly to you?”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Peg, thoughtfully. It seemed that Cassie Harrington was not the silly airhead that Peg first believed her to be. “Too many woman rush into marriage…” She gave her sister a meaningful look. “And don’t find out what they want to be.”
“Being a wife and mother is important,” said Sheila. “The most important roles a woman can play.”
“Someone should have told my mother that,” said Cassie, darkly.
“What do you mean?” asked Peg. She remembered the upstairs room in the Harrington’s old house, with Cassie’s height recorded on the wall. She began to wonder if a nanny or maid had done it.
“Oh, nothing. I’m being silly. All this death in the family is getting to me. First Father and now Aunt Veronica. You ask if Father was the type to take his own life. I have to ask you. Was Aunt Veronica? Because she always seemed so cheerful in her letters to me.”
“She was a cheerful woman,” said Sheila. “But…”
“We had a lot of debt,” Peg finished for her. “Father’s death duties and other things. She may have been more worried than she let on.” Even as Peg said the words, it did not make sense. “Perhaps your father’s death upset her more than we know. Were they especially close, do you know?”
Cassie shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Not as far as I know. I was the one who kept in touch with Aunt Veronica, first of all at my mother’s insistence and then because I wanted to. She told me all about you two, you know, when she married your father. How she hoped she would be a good mother to you both. Then later…” Cassie coughed discreetly.
“We … I … wasn’t always very nice to her,” Peg admitted. “It was nothing personal. I’m not nice to lots of people. Sheila is. She’s a darling, whereas I’m the devil himself.”
“No you’re not,” said Sheila. “Well, not always.”
“She still cared about you both,” said Cassie. “She worried, after your father died, that she could not do right by you.”
“Did she?” Peg felt a tingling in the back of her neck that she recognised as guilt. She had given Veronica a hard time. No wonder Mary was so angry with her. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in. Leave you to talk about fashions and men and all that.”
As she was leaving the drawing room, she heard Cassie say, “Tell me all about Doctor Pearson. Is he married?”
Pity, thought Peg, and just as I’m starting to like Cassie Harrington.
On the way to her room, Peg stopped by Mary’s door
, which was ajar. Her little sister was lying in bed with her eyes open.
“Can I get you anything, darling?” Peg asked.
“No.”
Peg pushed the door open and went in. “Mary, I know you’re angry with me, but I never meant any harm to Veronica. She gave as good as she got, you know.”
“It’s not that,” said Mary, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”
“Then what is it, baby?” Peg sat on the edge of the bed and took Mary’s hand. It was freezing cold. Instinctively, she wrapped it in both of hers and pressed it against her torso to warm it up.
The Doctor's Daughter (The Peg Bradbourne Mysteries Book One) Page 5