The Summerfield Bride

by C. G Oster

  Pulling out her notebook, she recorded her observations and what she remembered Prudence saying. Unfortunately it wasn’t a transcription of the conversation which would be helpful. Cornelia and Fredrick appeared to have an intimate relationship, but Fredrick had seen no hurry in marrying her. Claiming not to be sure, according to Prudence. Rose Wentley was jealous of Cornelia and had, in the past at least, played pranks on her, or simply sabotaged, depending on your point of view. Oh, and according to Prudence, Rose’s statement that Corny couldn’t design her own dress wasn’t true.

  “Did you think it strange about the wedding dress, Rose saying she couldn’t design it and Prudence saying she could?” Dory asked. “Either it’s true and she couldn’t, or Rose was lying about that. Could it all be a matter of subjectivity?”

  “I doubt that. Corny was known for having good taste. Rose was lying.”

  “That sounds like jealousy, doesn’t it? Enough to kill her in the wedding dress that proved that assertion wrong?”

  “Neither of them stated they were anywhere near the dressing room when the murder took place, and all asserted they were in sight of each other when it happened,” Livinia said. “And I was talking to them.”

  “Except we don’t know exactly when it happened. We never saw Cornelia. She could have been dead long before we found her. It was the dressmaking assistant that found her. And no one seems to have a good idea of who was where throughout their visit. We know that assistants went to help her dress, then left her, and when she returned, Cornelia was dead. Someone snuck in there in between and killed her. I saw those girls wandering, but I can’t say specifically. I hadn’t even been introduced, and it never even occurred to me to keep tabs on who went where.”

  “Well, they were all there when I spoke to them, except Cornelia of course, who was in the changing rooms.”

  “So we know the murder didn’t happened while you were chatting with them. And we know neither Harry nor the staff were responsible, because the man grilled them endlessly to find nothing. And why would they? Her murder put their business at risk. It won’t do him good to have this happen in his shop.”

  “Harry would probably smack you if he heard you referring to his atelier as a mere shop,” Livinia said tartly. “Maybe the fatal mistake Cornelia made.”

  “Was she like that?”

  “I was joking. I am sure Harry has heard the worst of insults and fared well enough.”

  “No, I mean with her forceful personality, did she trade insults?” Dory asked.

  “Honestly, not that I saw.”

  “Yet Prudence said she had a forceful personality.”

  “Rose implied more that she was stupid and ambitious, which I don’t really buy.”

  “The Summerfield family did seem to sing her praises,” Dory said.

  “Olivia too,” Livinia pointed out. To Dory it was interesting that her more distant acquaintances sang her praises, while the people who knew her most seemed absorbed with jealousy.

  Chapter 15

  IT TOOK A WHILE TO reach Annabelle’s house not far outside Cambridge. It was a lovely old house, built with light brick and a slate roof. It was more understated than any of the houses they’d seen and the garden had a wild quality. It was in full bloom and everywhere around Dory was color and scent.

  “This is lovely,” she said.

  “Colorful like Annabelle,” Livinia said. “Suits her, really. It’s interesting how houses you grew up in seem to suit one.”

  Well, this one was more understated than Wallisford Hall. What did her childhood home say about Livinia? Dory dismissed the thought from her mind, feeling it wasn’t something she wished to think about. Saying that, she really liked this house.

  “Hello, Mrs. Shoreham,” Livinia said as a woman approached from the garden. She had a round face and smiling eyes.”

  “Livinia,” the woman said. “Annabelle said you might be dropping by. Such a pleasure to see you. How is Constance?”

  “Auntie is well. She’s still at the hall.”

  “Come winter, I suppose she will head south again as she is so fond of doing.”

  Dory recognized that it was probably true that Lady Pettifer would go back to St. Tropez come winter, and Dory wouldn’t be able to go with her. Truthfully, she still couldn’t fathom what married life would be like. Obviously, she knew where Ridley lived, and she would live there too.

  “I thought I heard you arrive,” a brunette said as she walked out of the house. Dory recognized her from the salon. Annabelle. Her voice was high-pitched and she looked like a younger version of her mother. “How are you? You look marvelous. And you too. Dorothy, isn’t it?”

  Annabelle was the only one of the girls to even remember her, let alone her name. “Yes,” Dory said with a smile, “but you can call me Dory. Most do.”

  “Oh, good. Come. Mother’s made some elderflower cordial. It’s not terribly sweet, I’m afraid. It’s still so infuriatingly hard to find sugar.”

  A lack of sugar appeared to be the only sign that the war had ever even touched this house. Cambridge must have been struck at some point. Dory couldn’t recall. Most cities had.

  “We’re planning a trip to America. Did you hear?” Annabelle asked.

  “No. Sounds wonderful.”

  “Papa needs to go to New York for some reason, so we’re all going along, we’ve decided. I’m so excited. One gets sick of dreary old England. Well, it’s summer now, so it isn’t so bad. But last winter was gruesome, wasn’t it? So dull and gray. I’ve never been to New York, have you?”

  “No, can’t say that I have sailed across the Atlantic. Vivian has, I believe.”

  “How is Vivian? I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “He’s in Australia. We’re not quite sure when he’s coming back.”

  “Well, I do hope I see him before I sail.”

  “We saw Fredrick, of course. Holding up, he says,” Livinia said and Dory admired how smoothly she shifted them into the interview.

  “Yes, poor boy,” Annabelle said. “It’s so awful what happened.”

  “I have to admit it’s a shock. Dory was just measuring for her dress.”

  “Oh, you’re getting married?”

  How could Annabelle remember her presence and name, but have missed the fact that she had been at Harlowe’s for her wedding dress? “Yes,” Dory said brightly.

  “How wonderful. I love weddings. Hopefully, I will have my own one day.”

  “I spoke to Rose, of course, and she mentioned you and Freddy were an item once.”

  “Oh, long ago,” Annabelle said with a dismissive wave. “Me and Freddy have been chums for ages.”

  “How did he and Cornelia meet?” Dory asked.

  “Out and about, I suppose. I can’t remember. I do remember her mentioning him at a party that Trevor Nellers had some years ago. After that, they just seemed to be together. He asked her to dinner a few times.”

  “Seemed quite besotted with her.”

  “They had their ups and downs like any relationship. It wasn’t always bliss. Freddy can get quite testy and they would fight. I remember at New Years, they fought and Corny ended up crying.”

  This was news to Dory. Everyone seemed to have painted them as the golden couple, but as one would expect, they seemed to have their issues like everyone else. “Do you remember what they fought about?”

  “I don’t know. Something he’d said that had upset her. Corny didn’t like people talking about her,” Annabelle said.

  “No one does,” Livinia said tartly.

  “Yes, because your mother,” Annabelle said. Dory could feel Livinia’s tension, but Annabelle seemed oblivious. “Anyway, they kissed and made up. I didn’t hear any more about it. Well, Corny was so busy planning the wedding. Truthfully, I haven’t seen Freddy so much lately.”

  “Who do you think was most jealous of Corny’s wedding?” Livinia asked.

  “Oh, good question,” Annabelle said. “I don’t know. Everyone was
very happy for her, of course. Corny had always said she would be the one to marry first. Even from when we were young.”

  In her mind, Dory tried to understand why someone would say that, because it simply didn’t make sense to her. “She felt it was important to get married first?”

  “No, she just knew. Corny seemed to just know things sometimes.”

  “She certainly didn’t foresee someone stabbing her in the gut,” Livinia said.

  A woman in an apron came out with the cordial and placed it down on the table in the seating area just outside the house where they were sitting. “There are sandwiches if anyone is hungry,” she said.

  “No, thank you,” Livinia replied. “Have to watch all the starches now that summer is here.”

  “You have a wonderful figure,” Annabelle said.

  “Oh, thank you. You are sweet.”

  “Did both Prudence and Rose like Freddy, for Cornelia, I mean?” Dory asked. It was a direct question, but Annabelle seemed to read less into questions than the other girls. Overall, she was much less prickly.

  “Uhmm,” she started. “As far as I know. I recall Prudence once telling her how lucky she is—was. It’s so hard to conceive that she’s actually dead. I just can’t understand.” Her face clouded over. “It’s just so awful.”

  “What happened that day before you came to the atelier?”

  “We met at Prue’s apartment initially,” Annabelle said. “Corny had a headache and only drank water.”

  “She was ill?” Dory asked.

  “No, I think she’d had a busy night, that’s all. Corny is a little gripey when she has a headache.”

  “What was she gripey about?”

  “This and that.”

  “Who do you think it was more directed toward, Rose or Prudence?”

  “Definitely Rose. Honestly, I can’t recall exactly what it was about. Corny pointed out how Rose just shoveled her breakfast into her mouth. It was nothing specific, you know? Just gripey.”

  “And how did Rose react?” Dory asked.

  “Oh, she didn’t like it. Rose gets that pinched look when she doesn’t like something. She said, ‘because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you can be a complete monster about it.’”

  “Was she being a monster?” Livinia asked.

  “Well, Corny was exacting. She liked things the way she liked it. I know she worried about Rose gaining weight and not being able to fit into her bridesmaid’s dress. But Corny always was gripey first thing in the morning. It’s not her best time. Never was. As far as Corny was concerned, mornings served no purpose whatsoever.”

  “What about Prudence?” Dory asked.

  “Oh, she just stayed out of it.”

  “It’s been suggested that they were a little jealous about this wedding,” Livinia said.

  “Of course they were jealous. Both of them wished it was them getting married. That’s only natural.”

  “I think it’s also been implied,” Dory said, “that Freddy was too good for Corny.” It hadn’t been explicitly stated, but that’s the impression she had gotten from Rose and she wanted to hear Annabelle’s impression.

  “That’s nonsense. Freddy was lucky to have her. Corny certainly thought so. Freddy too. He wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise.” Annabelle was getting a little heated. She didn’t like the assertion. “it’s just poisoned tongues wagging.”

  Although it was Cornelia’s closest friends they were talking about. And the more Dory got to know Cornelia Vellsted, she wasn’t the wonderful girl the Summerfields had gone on about. Forthright and gripey seemed to be a part of her personality. Or maybe that’s what her closest friends saw.

  “People are cruel,” Livinia said and it came across as an indictment toward Cornelia.

  “She’d dead. There’s no reason for people to go on about her and pick her to pieces.” Annabelle was close to tears now, and it occurred to Dory that it was the first time she had seen true emotion from any of Cornelia’s friends.

  “You’re right—she should be celebrated,” Dory said. “For the friend she was.” Mr. Holmes’ words from the previous night came back to her about how you couldn’t always understand these girls until you knew what they wanted. “She lived life to the fullest and wanted to marry Freddy.”

  “Did she ever. It was all she wanted,” Annabelle said.

  “What did she want after?”

  “I don’t know. Have a family, I suppose. Freddy’s well off, so she didn’t really have anything she needed to achieve beyond that.” It sounded so mercenary to Dory.

  “She was never interested in anyone else?” Livinia asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Annabelle said. “Once she’d met him, it was only Freddy that counted.”

  “What about Rose and Prudence? Are they not dating anyone?”

  “No, not really. Rose is friends with Casper Brightnell, but I don’t think he ever considered her romantically. I know that Prudence had a softness for your brother at one point, but I think she knew she would never replace Olivia.”

  “They’re very pretty girls,” Livinia said.

  “Charlie Waterman is around all the time, obviously.”

  “Oh, I had forgotten about Charlie,” Livinia said.

  “Most people do. Corny didn’t like him.”

  “Didn’t she?”

  “No, because he didn’t particularly like her.”

  “That is interesting, isn’t it? Charlie is Freddy’s best friend,” Livinia pointed out.

  “Oh,” Dory said. “And Charlie and Corny didn’t like each other?”

  “It was more like they tolerated each other for the sake of Freddy.”

  “What about Rose and Prudence?”

  “I don’t think he particularly liked them either. Or me, to be totally frank. There are few people Charlie actually does like. Corny did at times imply that Charlie wanted Freddy all for himself, which is ridiculous because Charlie isn’t like that.”

  “Are you sure?” Livinia asked.

  “No, well he did date Felicity Dunmore for a time, but they broke up. I think he was seeing someone else on the side—a girl. He’s just not the most cordial character, you know. And Corny hated that he didn’t like her, and hated him in return, because she just couldn’t charm him. Corny could charm just about everyone. Freddy’s best friend was not one of them.”

  “He truly can be unpleasant,” Livinia said. “I take it he was going to be part of the wedding?”

  “No, Corny wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “And Freddy was alright with that?” Livinia asked with a frown.

  “I think she put her foot down about the topic. No Charlie or no wedding. Can’t blame her. Would you want someone who hates you at your wedding?”

  Vivian came to mind and Dory shuddered. No, she wouldn’t want him rolling his eyes at her wedding.

  Chapter 16

  DORY WAS TIRED BY the time Livinia dropped her off at the train station. They had spoken little on the way from Annabelle’s house. It felt a little as if she couldn’t take any more into her brain right then. Perhaps because she hadn’t slept well that night. Wallisford Hall had completely different noises than her house. The chickens were mostly quiet at night, but there were a couple of peacocks that screeched loudly through the night.

  During the drive, Dory had written down all she remembered and a much more nuanced picture was emerging of Cornelia, as well as Freddy.

  “I’m dead on my feet,” Livinia complained. “I think we should go see Charlie at some point. No doubt he would give us an unbridled interpretation of Cornelia and her relationship with Freddy. But not tomorrow.”

  “Alright,” Dory said as she stepped out of the car. “We still have no idea who did it, but my instincts say that Olivia is right and it wasn’t Annabelle.”

  “I agree. I don’t think she has it in her, but I can’t really see Rose or Prue murdering anyone either.”

  “Yet, it must have been one of them.”


  With a wave, Livinia drove away and Dory turned to the train station. It was a small, wooden building, painted beige and brown. People were waiting on the platform, so a train couldn’t be that far away. She had to go to London first, before she went home. Seeing the phone box, she wondered if she should call Ridley.

  After the day, she felt she needed a friendly voice, but she could hear the train coming, so it had to wait. Urgently, she rushed to the ticket counter and searched through her bag for coins. The train was coming closer and closer, and she felt her anxiety rise in case she missed it. She would probably have to wait an hour if not more if she did.

  The ticket seller seemed to move slower than normal, feeling no sense of urgency at all. Finally he handed it over and she ran for the train.

  The rush proved unnecessary, because she had a good three minutes before the train left again. Enough time to sit down and look around. There wasn’t anyone she recognized in the carriage.

  Sitting there, she wondered for a moment if spending time with Livinia was in and of itself tiring. With a sigh, she looked out the window. The closer she got to London, the more bomb damage she saw. Finally she arrived at King’s Cross, from where she called Ridley and agreed to meet in Pimlico.

  It was dark by the time she met him, standing waiting for her outside the tube station. She smiled when she saw him. She had gotten so used to seeing him in uniform, it was strange to now see him in his civilian clothes. As opposed to some, whose houses and wardrobes had been destroyed, he had the option of discarding his uniform.

  “Dory,” he said and kissed her. Butterflies took off in her stomach for a moment and she smiled. It was nice to see him. It felt good to see him—a comfort she couldn’t entirely explain, as if she was home. That was what he represented to her now, home and family. It was a curious feeling. “How are you?”

  “Good. I’ve spent the day with Livinia—and her friends,” she added. They walked down the road to the pub. “How are you?”