by C. G Oster
Capshaw pursed his lips and picked up his pen, continuing to tap the desk. “I suppose there is enough circumstantial evidence to bring her in for an interview,” he said. By the sounds of it, he wasn’t relishing the prospect, and Dory didn’t blame him. There was a good chance Rose Wentley’s family would call someone to put pressure on the police commissioner, or find someone who would.
“What else do you know?” he asked, pulling a pad of paper over.
“Well, Rose says Cornelia liked to play cruel games. She also indicated that the fiancé, Fredrick, might have been entertaining second thoughts. Prudence said Cornelia was upset because Rose was trying to get Fredrick’s attention and that she might be sweet on him—enough so that Cornelia was upset about it. Prudence clearly thinks Rose is responsible for the murder and reacted angrily to being told she was being cut from the bridal party.”
“Then why would Cornelia Vellsted bring her to the dressmakers?” he asked. Mr. Harlowe would probably bristle severely at being referred to as a mere dressmaker.
“What better place to cut someone from a wedding if one was intent on being cruel?”
Desperately, she tried to think what else she had learned. It didn’t sound so much now that she recapped it. “Well, Fredrick’s best friend, Charlie—”
“That’s Charlie Waterman?”
“That’s right. He confirmed that Cornelia had a cruel streak. He did not like her, and Rose said the same. She even suggested that perhaps Charlie was responsible for the crime. That he had potentially paid one of the shop employees to perform the crime for him.”
Capshaw looked over, seemingly unimpressed with the accusation. “We know the lock is intact in the back of the workshop, and none of the staff we interviewed seemed the murder-for-money kind.”
“It seems she was deflecting,” Dory agreed. “And murdering your friend’s fiancé because you don’t like them seems a bit of a stretch. He’d just sabotage her in the eyes of his friend, surely. It seems a much easier option.”
“Alright, I appreciate you coming forward with this information. We’ll pick up Rose Wentley and see what she says,” he said and her dismissal was clear. “Good luck with your upcoming wedding.”
“Thank you,” Dory replied. Well, maybe this was all over now and she could focus on her own business—a wedding that was fast approaching. He didn’t see her out and Dory left the way she’d come, and then out onto the street. It should all feel complete, but it didn’t. It wasn’t as if she had doubts that Rose Wentley had done it. It seemed pretty clear that she had. It was now up to DI Capshaw to prove it. There was nothing else for her to do.
With her handbag under her arm, she walked to the Marylebone tube station to start the journey home. Again it occurred to her that she would be living in London soon, a resident of Pimlico with her husband. But now she headed back to Swanley to her mother’s house.
The entire trip, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but as she searched her mind, she couldn’t place her finger on why that was. Rose was going to be interviewed and DI Capshaw would arrest her if he had sufficient evidence of her culpability. Of that, Dory no longer felt any responsibility and was quite happy to hand it off to the investigating policeman.
No, perhaps it was just the uncertainty of it, the fact that Rose hadn’t been held accountable yet, or even that her family would work hard to prevent it. Dory knew that the members of the aristocracy enlisted friends and acquaintances to ensure they weren’t held to account for their crimes. That definitely happened, just as it had happened with Lady Wallisford. The commissioner for police had agreed to a special arrangement, seeing her committed to a sanitorium instead of the justice she was due. It was possible that Rose Wentley’s family was powerful enough to ensure she didn’t face the same justice as everyone else.
Chapter 24
BEFORE DORY KNEW IT, her dress was ready for its final fitting and she was again off to London. The wedding was in a few days, so there wasn’t much time if something was wrong. Not that she had any expectations there would be. And she was right. The dress was absolutely perfect. Dory still couldn’t believe she was the pretty woman looking back at her through the mirror. It seemed just... extraordinary.
So it was time to take the dress home and she walked out of Mr. Harlowe’s atelier carrying a large, paper-wrapped parcel, thanking him profusely for making her such a lovely gown. He waved her goodbye at the door and wished her day to be perfect. It would be, she was sure of it.
Walking back to the Marylebone tube station, she felt a little sad because she was now doing something the other bride, Cornelia, would never do, take her wedding gown home.
Across the street, she spotted the police station. It would be a vast overstatement to say she was DI Capshaw’s favorite person, but they had heard nothing about the outcome. Maybe Livinia had. Surely something like an arrest would be fast traveling gossip, but she hadn’t heard anything.
For a moment, Dory wondered whether to wait and call Lady Pettifer or to go across the street and ask DI Capshaw if there had been an outcome with the case. Then again, if Lady Pettifer hadn’t heard, they wouldn’t know. It could be that Rose Wentley’s family was keeping this development a secret, or they could even have let Rose go due to lack of evidence. Indecision plagued Dory for a moment, but she decided to bite the bullet and go deal with the man who didn’t want her there at all.
At the desk, she asked for DI Capshaw and was told to wait with her overly large parcel. It took a while for him to arrive and he sighed when he saw her.
“Hello,” she said. “I just thought I would follow up to see what has occurred.”
“We are not obliged to keep you informed of the developments, Miss Sparks. While we are thankful for your assistance, you really need to leave it to us to deal with. Go home.”
He was about to turn to leave when Dory rushed up. “Please,” she said. “We would both like to know.”
“How is that a concern of mine?”
Dory blinked for a moment. “Well, in about half an hour, I’m going to meet Lady Pettifer and she will most definitely ask me. You recall her from the atelier, I believe.” There was no way he didn’t remember Lady Pettifer. The truth about them meeting in half an hour was a stretch of the truth, but she would call Lady Pettifer to report on how beautiful the gown was. “Well, if you don’t know her type, then I will say you are a brave man to stand in her way and she very much wants to know how things are going with Rose Wentley.”
“She will just have to contain herself,” he said dismissively.
“I don’t think you understand. If Lady Pettifer is displeased, she will call Winston Churchill himself to sort it. They are old family friends. So you could tell me or you could tell Winston Churchill. Your choice.”
A growl escaped the man as he recognized his station was outmatched by a severe degree, because Dory wasn’t lying. Lady Pettifer had called the prime minister when British customs had been troublesome about letting her dog into the country. People like Lady Pettifer was used to having obstacles removed and she wouldn’t hesitate with a reticent DI.
“We have arrested Rose Wentley,” he finally admitted. “She will be brought to trial for the murder of Miss Cornelia Vellsted.”
“Right, thank you, DI Capshaw.”
“Now make yourself scarce, Miss Sparks. I don’t want to see you in my station again. I would be of half a mind to arrest you for obstruction and I don’t care who you’re marrying.”
“Fine, I’m leaving,” she said as politely as she could, while not saying Winston Churchill would probably get an earful if she were arrested for something like that.
It wasn’t as if she had made an enemy of DI Capshaw. It was more that she was far from his favorite person and would likely remain so. But the case was solved now. It was done and she didn’t have to deal with it, or him, anymore.
With a final goodbye, she left the police station feeling light. That whole ugliness was behind her.
Obviously it would be better if the whole issue of the knife had been settled, but perhaps she needed to admit that there wasn’t a neat answer to everything.
It was warm on the street as Dory emerged from the police station. She walked down the street, making her way to the tube station, wondering if it would be better to call Lady Pettifer from Swanley. Yes, but on the other hand, maybe she should do it now and then put this all behind her as quickly as possible.
Seeing a telephone box ahead, she searched her purse for coins and pulled out a couple of shillings. Stepping inside, she asked for the Aylesbury exchange and then Wallisford house. As expected, Mr. Holmes answered, who was hardly surprised these days when she called.
“Dory,” Lady Pettifer said when the telephone reached her. “How are you? Did you have your final fitting today?”
The parcel was pressed between her shins as she stood. “Yes. The dress is simply marvelous. I have it with me now. I also dropped in on DI Capshaw.”
“I am sure he enjoyed that.”
“Immensely,” she said with a smile. “He was reticent, but he did inform me that Rose Wentley has been arrested for Cornelia Vellsted’s murder.”
There was silence down the line for a moment. “I see,” Lady Pettifer finally said. “Poor girl.”
It was a strange notion how to feel about Rose Wentley. It was hard to reconcile the person Dory had met with the things she had done. But Cornelia had paid with her life for the things that Rose had done. Such things had to be accounted for.
“How do you feel about it?” Lady Pettifer asked.
“Well, I think it’s a shame all around.”
“Of course. I mean, however, how do you feel about the case finishing like this?”
Dory blinked, not exactly sure what Lady Pettifer was asking. “I feel… ” Dory started. How did she feel? It was hard to put her finger on it. “Obviously it would be better if we knew where the knife had come from. It simply seemed to be there.” Dory bit her lip as Lady Pettifer remained silent like she did when she wanted Dory to go on. “Well, there are… Truthfully, I don’t doubt that Rose did it, but I have a feeling we’re not seeing the whole picture, if you know what I mean.”
“I think you should come up for tea and we’ll talk about it. You must trust your instincts. You’ve always had good instincts.”
“It’s the knife,” Dory said. “But it isn’t just the knife. There are a few other things that make me feel… uncomfortable.” Now that she was actually searching her mind, she realized there were things about the case she didn’t feel settled with, but she didn’t know why. Maybe it was simply that there weren’t perfect answers for everything. “It just seems so simple.”
“Sometimes things just are simple,” Lady Pettifer said. A mere moment ago, Lady Pettifer had said to trust her instincts and now she said to doubt them. “But it might be a good idea to go over the details of the case. Besides, you will be a married woman soon and I cannot have you come to tea at the drop of a hat, so I had better do so before your life becomes complicated.”
Complicated? She’d just served the war effort for four years, dodging bombs and hauling coal. How would married life turn out to be more complicated?
“Yes, good.” Dory said with a smile. “I’ll come up in a couple of days.” Butterflies lifted in her stomach as she yet again realized that her wedding was literally within a week. Lady Pettifer made it sound as though she was to be imprisoned. Rose Wentley stole into her mind. Poor girl. She had prison in her future—if she didn’t receive worse. She might not have a future at all.
Dory pushed the thoughts away. “It will be lovely to see the you,” she said to Lady Pettifer. “And Quaintly is so lovely in the summer, isn’t it?”
“That it is.”
“Call Mr. Holmes when you are coming and he will send that new man to fetch you.”
“Alright,” Dory said with a smile and then hung up. Truly, Dory felt exhausted. A moment ago, she’d been elated, but now she felt the opposite. Lady Pettifer had been right. There was something inside her that said they shouldn’t walk away from this case yet. There was something she’d seen or heard that had left the impression, but she didn’t know what. Maybe talking it over with Lady Pettifer would uncover it. Lady Pettifer always had a way of making her see things differently.
Chapter 25
IT WAS ALWAYS A NICE FEELING arriving at Quaintly train station just at the edge of the village. Lady Pettifer’s Bentley stood waiting, along with Mr. Poole, her new driver, or maybe Lord Wallisford’s new driver.
Dory smiled at him when she emerged from the station house and he pushed himself away from the bonnet he’d been leaning on. “No luggage, Miss?”
“No, I am only staying a few hours.”
Dory never quite got used to someone holding open the door for her and she smiled awkwardly as she got in the back. This machine was a world away from the trucks she had driven at various times over the last five years.
It took about ten minutes to reach Wallisford Hall and Dory still saw the chicken coops dotted across the land. Lord Wallisford hadn’t managed to get them off his land yet, it seemed. Not surprising as supplies were so very scarce. Maybe rations were even tighter because so many men were returning.
The gravel crunched as the car slowly pulled up at the entrance, and Dory got out. Mr. Holmes was waiting. “Welcome back, Miss Sparks.” It would have been a stretch to say she’d been terrified of him when she had worked here, but she had certainly been wary. His bad opinion had been enough to get her dismissed. “Lady Pettifer is in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”
The room was bright with summer sunshine as Dory walked in, finding Lady Pettifer in her usual spot. “There you are. Was the train running late today?”
“About ten minutes,” Dory said.
“Now come sit down. Mr. Holmes will bring us a fresh pot, I think.” The man came and took the teapot away and disappeared out the butler’s door. “Now, how is your wedding dress?”
“Like a dream. I shall feel like a princess.”
“As all women should on their wedding day. I hope you’re not getting nervous.”
“A little.”
“I think Captain Ridley is a good man. You could have done worse.”
Dory smiled. Yes, she could have done much worse. At times she couldn’t believe she was marrying him. It seems so… dreamy.
“And then this business with Rose Wentley. You said she was arrested.”
“That is what DI Capshaw said. If they will make the charges stick, I don’t know. I can imagine she will have the best representation money can buy.”
“It will not help her much if she confessed. I suspect she has,” Lady Pettifer said. “Quite the scandal, I would believe.”
Dory wondered how Fredrick Summerfield was taking this development. Probably shocked to his core.
“Now what are your reservations?” Lady Pettifer asked.
“Well, I’m not sure they are reservations. Obviously, we had no idea how the knife got there. Prudence said she must have just picked it up somewhere, but none of the staff recognized it, and it was good quality. Maybe that is what bothered me. The knife was too good quality to simply lay about in some shop somewhere.”
“Mr. Harlowe would invest in the best whiteware and cutlery,” Lady Pettifer said, “but he would then very much recognize it.”
“And there was something else,” Dory said, rifling through the notes she’d made in her notebook. There was something there that had bothered her, but she couldn’t exactly remember what. Then it came to her. “No, that was it. I don’t know what it means. When I left Prudence the first time—or it might have been in the middle of the interview—she said: ‘Oh, you are getting married too.’ It just struck me as funny, because I got the impression she was referring to herself. I thought she had a beau who had asked her to marry him, but she doesn’t.”
“She must have been referring to Cornelia.”
“Well, if we accept your perception and Prudence does believe that she will marry soon. Who would it be referring to? Obviously a secret beau.”
“Livinia remarked how strange it was that she was spending time in London during the summer,” Dory said. “She kept questioning why.”
Lady Pettifer considered it for a moment. “It could be generally viewed as something one does only when one has a reason to be in London. Otherwise, people usually have a place to go. London is dreadful in the summer heat. Who else was in London?”
“I don’t know that set. But we did meet with Charlie Waterman—Fredrick Summerfield’s best friend. Perhaps she is seeing him and it’s something they wish to keep quiet.”
“It could be.”
“The only other man I know of in their mutual acquaintance is Fredrick himself,” Dory said. “And actually, Charlie was running off to meet him, so technically he was in London too.” Thoughts were occurring to Dory and she couldn’t make any sense of them. “You don’t think she could have been referring to Fredrick, do you?”
Lady Pettifer pursed her lips and considered it. “If she was, then we are dealing with something much darker and convoluted.”
Goosebumps rose up Dory’s arms, her mind trying to grapple with the implications. “In that case, Prudence and Fredrick must have acted very quickly with Cornelia out of the picture.”
“Or she was working to achieve that,” Lady Pettifer said.
“The knife. She brought the knife and made it available to Rose. Rose didn’t say.”
“Rose might not have been aware of it. Might only have observed a knife being available at the height of her rage. A rage what was provoked by Prudence,” Lady Pettifer said. “In fact, we don’t even know if the story about Rose being cut from the wedding party was true. We only have one source of it. Prudence. It could have been something she concocted. Or not. It could have been true. Maybe she was just a messenger. Who also conveniently provided a murder weapon as Rose flew into a rage.”