Murder in an English Village

by Jessica Ellicott

  Chapter 4

  “I’ve been thinking about last night,” Edwina said, spreading a heaping dollop of jam onto a slice of thin toast.

  “I thought as much.” Beryl leaned forward on her elbows, a slice of crisp bacon poised in midair. “Come on then. Out with it.”

  Edwina settled back in her chair with a creak and folded her slim hands in her lap. Once a thing was said, it couldn’t be unsaid. And unless Beryl had changed more than Edwina suspected since their shared girlhood, it would be very difficult to distract her from a course of action. Edwina cleared her throat, noting the pain in doing so. That decided it.

  “Are you familiar with the Women’s Land Army?”

  “The organization that sent women into the fields as agricultural workers during the war?” Beryl asked.

  “The very one. The government needed all the help they could get in keeping the soldiers on the front and the people at home fed and the Land Army helped to do just that. It was important work and many farms in the area took advantage of the program,” Edwina said. “The Board of Agriculture even set up a large farming operation which served as a training centre here on the Wallingford Estate.”

  “Am I right to remember that the Land Army had some trouble being accepted by the general population?” Beryl said. “Thought to be unladylike or some such a thing.”

  “They did have a bit of difficulty at first. The shocking look of their masculine uniforms and the way so many of the girls bobbed their hair struck many of the farmers and other local people as scandalous. Still, they needed the help and it wasn’t worth the country starving because one objected to women using trousers,” Edwina said. “Besides, the cause was greatly helped in this area by Lady Wallingford who gave over the estate into the care of the government for the greater good.”

  “How generous of her,” Beryl said. “Or do I detect there is more to the story than a self-sacrificing act of patriotism?”

  “It was a good way to save face in the district. Her husband died and left her with far too little capital to keep the place up.” Edwina sighed and looked around the kitchen. The cooker could well do with a fresh coat of blacking and the floor hadn’t had a truly decent scrubbing since Edwina had been forced to economize. Keeping things up with a single live-in housekeeper had been difficult before the war. A daily girl working part-time had been even less helpful. By the time Edwina’s mother died she couldn’t justify even that expense and had been forced to curtail those inadequate services. Edwina couldn’t imagine how much more difficult things had been on an estate as large as Lady Wallingford’s. “Lamentably it is an altogether too common state of affairs of late.”

  “I’ll pitch in and we’ll get things straightened round. You’ll see.” Beryl nodded vigorously and Edwina felt a faint flicker of hope for the first time in ages that things might just be looking up. She couldn’t truly imagine Beryl being much help with the housekeeping but one never knew what one was capable of. The war had taught that lesson for certain. “You still haven’t said what any of this has to do with someone trying to throttle the life out of you last night.”

  “I’m coming to that bit. Once Lady Wallingford made such a public show of her support for the Land Army scheme folks around here grudgingly accepted the idea. The scheme was also bolstered by respectable local women championing it by participating themselves.”

  “Which brings the tale round to you?” Beryl remembered her bacon and took a large bite.

  “I volunteered to serve as the village registrar,” Edwina said.

  “That doesn’t sound like you were out digging potatoes or mucking about in the cow barns.”

  “I wasn’t. My duties involved keeping a register of all the Land Army workers in our area including the details of their availability and their skills. Local farmers came to me to help find workers for their farms.” Crumpet crossed the room and lay down at Edwina’s feet and placed his chin on the toe of her worn, brown shoe. Edwina bent over and scratched his ears.

  “You acted as a sort of job placement agent?”

  “Yes, I suppose that was the job in a nutshell.”

  “You believe that position has something to do with the attempt on your life last night?”

  “I do.” Edwina reached for her teacup and took a sip. “I got to know many of the girls quite well, you see. Which ones were hard workers, which were conscientious, and which of them regretted ever signing up in the first place. Which is why I never quite believed that Agnes Rollins would abandon her duties without a word to anyone. I would never have put her down as that sort of girl.”

  “What happened?”

  “Agnes simply vanished in the night. She was the leader of her gang and one morning she was simply gone when the other girls awoke. As far as I know no one ever heard from her again.”

  “Did she leave a note? Had anyone seen her go?” Beryl leaned back in her chair and gazed up at the ceiling. Edwina followed her gaze and added painting the kitchen ceiling to her list of necessary repairs.

  “No note, no word of any kind.” Edwina’s brow furrowed. “One day she was hard at work on the Wallingford Estate and the next it was if she had never been there.”

  “Did she not have any family that came asking after her either?”

  “I seem to remember her saying she was alone in the world so I was not surprised no one asked after her. I was merely saddened by it.”

  “Is her disappearance the possible mystery you were thinking of when I asked about nefarious doings here in Walmsley Parva?” Beryl tented her fingers in front of her face and fixed her sparkling blue eyes on a spot on the wall somewhere past Edwina’s shoulder. Edwina fought an urge to giggle at her friend’s serious look. It suited her far less well than did wide smiles and mischievous winks.

  “It was. I never felt satisfied with the response from the matron in charge or the authorities, slack as they were, at the time.”

  “Who was in charge of the operation?”

  “Hortense Merriweather was the matron on the estate. She was herself eager to pitch in for much the same reasons I was. We’ve been in the same circle of course, her father being in finance and mine a solicitor. Our lives diverged as so often happens when one friend marries and another does not. Her husband volunteered as soon as war was declared and was killed almost as quickly.”

  “Dreadful. Any children?” Beryl asked.

  “No, they were never blessed with them. To make matters worse, her much younger brother volunteered not long after she received the telegram about her husband. His entire unit experienced heavy shelling and a gas attack. The lot of them were wiped out in a single day. Hortense took the deaths very hard indeed.” Edwina paused. “While I naturally deplored the circumstances that brought her to the job, I was pleased to be working with someone as capable as Hortense.” Beryl nodded her understanding.

  “This Hortense ran a tight ship, did she?” Beryl asked.

  “Indisputably. Hortense had a real knack for keeping the girls in line. Which was one of the reasons I was so surprised for Agnes to run off on her. She was the sort of young woman who appreciated order herself and expected it from the girls on the gang she led. I couldn’t imagine her leaving Hortense in such a difficult position.”

  “Your friend had no explanation for what had happened to the missing girl?” Beryl asked.

  “Not really. I remember she said she was disappointed and that it just went to show how society was becoming completely unraveled. She was quite put out about the whole thing and said you simply couldn’t trust anyone to live up to his or her responsibilities. I remember Hortense herself ended up taking over for Agnes for a couple of weeks doing the early milk run.”

  “What, you mean the matron was out making deliveries?”

  “Exactly. The Land Army was still recruiting young women as fast as they could but it was all hands to the wheel. Hortense replaced Agnes until they could find someone else to drive the morning milk float. It wasn’t easy but it was certainl
y less difficult on the body than ploughing or milking or harvesting potatoes.”

  “You mentioned speaking with the authorities. Who else was there?”

  “The police force was depleted here, like everywhere else in the country.”

  “I suppose a spot with as little criminal activity as Walmsley Parva would naturally not rate an officer when London and Manchester were understaffed.”

  “That was just it. When our local officer joined up we acquired the distinction of being one of the first communities in Britain to have a female police constable. Doris Gibbs is a local woman who, despite a lack of experience, somehow managed to be appointed our village constable during the war. She holds the position still.”

  “What did she think of the whole matter?”

  “She told me there was no mystery in it. Constable Gibbs had a very low opinion of the morals of all the women in the Land Army. She felt they were likely to get up to all sorts of trouble.” Edwina felt anew the indignation at the conversation she had endured with Constable Gibbs.

  “Your constable sounds like she had no interest in what happened to the missing young woman.”

  “Very little at the time and none as more time passed.” Edwina pushed back her chair and carried her dishes to the sink. Beryl, she noticed, did not seem inclined to do the same. In fact, her friend seemed oblivious to all but the notion of Agnes’ disappearance. “It was all very unsatisfactory. But with so much grief and so many losses I felt rather foolish pressing the point of one disappearance.”

  “Who knew Agnes, besides you and Hortense?” Beryl asked.

  “The other girls in the Land Army assigned to the Wallingford Estate. But they are all gone except for Polly Watkins. The others came from places all over the country but Polly is a local girl, and when the Land Army was disbanded last year she was the only one to stay. She went back to working as a maid.”

  “Then we ought to start our investigation by speaking with her,” Beryl jumped to her feet, and rubbed her hands together briskly. Edwina cleared her throat and looked into the sink.

  “I would rather stay here and do the washing up.”

  “You can’t mean that. No one would rather do the dishes than to track down a missing person.” Beryl stacked her teacup on her plate and plunked them into the sink. “Tell me what is really on your mind.”

  “It’s Polly. She used to work here as a daily but I had to let her go when money got so very tight. I don’t think I can face her.” Edwina’s face reddened. “The fact is it wasn’t just the money. She wasn’t at all reliable and even when she did show up on the appointed day she wasn’t at all good at her job.”

  “Why does anyone employ her then?”

  “Help is so hard to come by that one can’t be at all choosy. It is far better to employ a disastrously disappointing cleaner than to admit you haven’t one at all. At present, the best you can hope for is that the staff doesn’t nick things.”

  “Did Polly do that?”

  “Some of my acquaintances said they thought she found it easier to pocket the silver than to polish it.” Edwina sighed. “I never noticed her taking anything here but I’m still not sure I can face her.”

  “Well, I can. Do you happen to know where I can track down this paragon of domestic help?”

  “Would you, Beryl?” Edwina asked. “I believe she’ll be at Charles Jarvis’ today.”

  “What are friends for?” Beryl said.

  Chapter 5

  Beryl paused in front of the hall tree and positioned her fashionable scarlet hat upon her head with a light hand. As much as she’d reassured Edwina that the blow to her forehead during the car crash had been no more than a tap, the fact remained there was a walnut-sized lump just below her hairline. While Beryl did not consider herself to be a vain woman, she was acutely aware of the role appearance played in garnering assistance, especially from men. Bearing that in mind she leaned closer towards the mirror and repaired the damage her breakfast had wrought upon her lipstick.

  A steady breeze ruffled the ends of her hair and drove swirls of autumn leaves up the lane ahead of her. The trees were half bare and still the temperatures were mild. If it weren’t for the lump Beryl would have been tempted to go bareheaded. She kept her eyes on the crossroad and turned left. Five houses up on the right, Edwina had said. The sign in front of a low-slung stone cottage proclaimed it to be Meadowlark House. Just as Beryl stepped to the door and raised her gloved hand it popped open revealing a bespectacled man with a slight stoop. His eyes widened behind his lenses and he took a step back.

  “Miss Rathbone said she had met you but one hardly knows what to believe when it comes to that woman,” he said. “You are Beryl Helliwell, are you not?”

  “I am. I suspect you are Charles Jarvis as I was assured by my friend Edwina that this is his house.”

  “I’m so very sorry. I’ve completely forgotten my manners. I’m not sure which was more of a shock, seeing you there or discovering that Prudence had gossip to share that was actually worth hearing.” Mr. Jarvis opened the door fully. “Do come in. Are you in need of legal services? If so, perhaps we should head to my office in town. The daily woman is here and I should like to respect your privacy.” A clatter of crockery sounded from a room at the back of the house. Mr. Jarvis winced at the sound of it.

  “It was your household help I came to see,” Beryl said, enjoying the chance to view surprise playing out across Mr. Jarvis’ face once more. In her experience, members of the legal profession generally prided themselves on bland demeanors. Mr. Jarvis was a rare breed. She wondered if he were at all successful. She stepped into the hallway and drew off her kidskin gloves.

  “You wish to speak with Polly?” he asked. He lowered his voice. “Does this have something to do with a certain something you might be working on with Edwina?”

  “In your capacity as a solicitor I am sure you frequently encounter circumstances require the utmost discretion.” She waited for him to nod before continuing. “Why don’t we just say my visit here is to ask Polly if she could possibly fit Edwina’s house back into her schedule. After all, my arrival signals a change in Edwina’s financial situation. There is no longer any need for the pretense of penury.”

  “Of course. My lips are sealed,” Mr. Jarvis said. “Well, right this way then.” He led her down the fusty, narrow hallway covered in watercolors all appearing to spring from the same hand. Beryl paused to give them a closer look. They weren’t professional by any means but there was something about them that drew the notice and suggested the artist had potential. The English landscape was portrayed in almost simpering sweetness. So bland as to make the one vibrant and successful thing in each painting stand out all the more starkly. In every single one a slim, small woman in modest clothing sat or stood with her back to the painter. Something in the way the figure was depicted reminded Beryl very strongly of Edwina. It made one wonder.

  The passageway halted abruptly at a spacious kitchen fitted out with all the modern conveniences. Beryl turned to the unprepossessing man once more.

  “May I ask if there is a Mrs. Jarvis?” She nodded to the appointments.

  “Alas, there is not. Why do you ask?”

  “In my experience most gentlemen living on their own have neglected kitchens, not ones that could be found in a showroom.”

  “I was once advised by a lady I esteem that a gentleman with a well-appointed kitchen stands a better chance of attracting a wife of quality than one with a hand pump and stone fireplace fitted with a spit. A modern kitchen is even more important now that it is nearly impossible to get any help at all these days. Especially help that does much good.” Mr. Jarvis turned to a noise at the back door. Beryl followed his glance. A young woman with glossy, honey colored hair peeking from beneath a kerchief stood in the threshold, a mop bucket dangling from her small hand. “Speaking of help, allow me to present Polly Watkins, the young woman who sees to the cleaning for me,” Mr. Jarvis said.

  “Ma’am,”
Polly said. “You’re that woman in the newspapers. What is always flying around here, there, and everywhere around the globe. You’re as famous a star in the pictures.” Polly’s eyes widened so much Beryl feared they might not remain tethered to her head.

  “That’s right. I am Beryl Helliwell. And you’re the Polly Watkins I’ve heard so much about.” Beryl was alarmed to see Polly’s eyes grow even larger. The poor girl’s mouth dropped open and a small squeak escaped her lips. Polly nodded slowly as if the atmosphere around her had unexpectedly become filled with tomato aspic rather than the usual combination of oxygen, nitrogen, and other gases.

  “Splendid. I hoped I might have a word with you.” Beryl turned to Mr. Jarvis. “If that’s all right with you?”

  “I’ll leave you to have a word on your own then, shall I?” Mr. Jarvis said. Beryl waited until he left the kitchen then pointed to the enameled table in the center of the room.

  “Why don’t we have a seat and I’ll tell you why I’ve come,” Beryl said. Polly nodded and put down the mop bucket with a trembling hand.

  “Am I in some sort of trouble?” Polly asked. She sank into a wooden chair. Her fingernails were short but ragged and she gnawed on a thumbnail, her gaze never leaving Beryl’s face.

  “Certainly not. I’m the one in difficulties. I’m here on behalf of my dear friend Edwina Davenport. She regrets most sincerely any hardship she caused you when she found it necessary to suspend your services.”

  “Miss Davenport’s a real lady,” Polly said. “I was very sorry to hear about her troubles,” Polly said.

  “Everyone has had them in the last few years, haven’t they?” Beryl said. “She sent me to ask if there is any way you could fit her home back into your busy schedule.”

  “I might be able to do for her again if she thinks herself able to have me back.” Polly bit her lower lip. Beryl had the impression that Polly was too well mannered to bring up the subject of money. Being an American, Beryl had no compunction about doing so herself.

  “Miss Davenport had good reason to allow her finances to become common gossip. But I assure you, finances are of no consideration at present.”