House Party Murder Rap: 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery)

by Sonia Parin

  Bicky tilted his head in thought. “The name rings a bell.”

  “She is the crowned queen of cosmetics, or at least, she shares the podium with Elizabeth Arden. In any case, she has claims to humble beginnings as an émigré to the new world, not America but rather Australia.” Shifting, she leaned in and looked out toward the other end of the estate where she saw another group of estate workers spreading out.

  “Ah, the Antipodes. I have a distant cousin who settled in Australia and met the most wonderful woman. He mentioned the astonishing number of sheep they own and, to be honest, I still can’t quite get my head around it.” Bicky patted his arm. “In any case, this injury of mine must be affecting my head. Please continue with your story before I succumb to another bout of idiocy.”

  Evie smiled. “As a young Polish émigré in Australia, Helena Rubinstein saw the opportunity to produce face lotions. She set up a small business which, in no time, flourished and expanded. Then she swiftly established herself here and followed her success to America. We’re merely reaping the rewards of her industrious endeavors. There are many like her who see an opportunity and grasp it with both hands, eventually making a brilliant success of it.”

  Studying the landscape from the window, Evie tapped a finger on her chin as she considered Bicky’s earlier question.

  She knew of one person who would stand to inherit something from her.

  Seth Halton, the current Earl of Woodridge.

  Her husband, Nicholas Halton, had died without issue. When the title had been created, provisions had been made for such an occasion to prevent the title from dying out so it had passed on to a distant relative. Unfortunately, he had been a casualty of the Great War. However, well before dying, he’d fathered a son; a young boy still in the schoolroom.

  Not exactly the instigator of evil machinations, Evie thought.

  As for her brother…

  If anything were to happen to her, the bulk of her fortune would revert to her brother and he would, most likely, set up a foundation to assist some worthy cause.

  Evie shook her head. “I can’t believe someone would wish me ill.” As for Bicky being shot…

  Another impossibility. Everyone loved Bicky.

  Bicky huffed out a breath. “Well, before you told me about your incident on the road, I had begun to wonder if someone wanted me dead.”

  Evie turned to look at him.

  Had Clara…?

  No. Impossible.

  The Duchess would never stoop so low or take such a foolish risk. Evie knew for a fact she had a penchant for diamonds hanging around her neck. Not a noose.

  Frowning, she wondered why she had even thought about Bicky’s wife. Drawing in a deep breath, she remembered.

  Caro had told her she’d heard talk of infidelity.

  Giving a small nod, Bicky said, “You have to admit, the circumstances are rather odd. We were both standing by the window. Either one of us could have been the target, but you’d already had an attempt on your life.”

  “We don’t really know that for sure.”

  Bicky shook his head and winced, “I don’t mean to frighten you, but let’s assume there has been an attempt…”

  Evie thought back to that precise moment when she’d heard the popping sound. She had only seconds before shifted to set her cup and saucer down. Had she been the target all along?

  Evie struggled to accept the day’s events. It all seemed too incredulous. Although, the fact remained, someone had made an attempt on someone’s life.

  Not once, but twice.

  “It might only have been a warning,” she mused. However, she feared they wouldn’t know for sure until the perpetrator was caught.

  A thick silence settled between them.

  Evie knew she’d made a few enemies along the way, but none who’d be prepared to risk their freedom or even be the type who would snub her in public. But she had made enemies.

  What could they gain? To get her out of the way? She didn’t pose a threat. Not anymore. Evie had made it plainly clear to anyone who would listen. She would never marry again.

  Frowning, she wondered where the thought had come from. There seemed to be far too many assailing her mind. She supposed the thought had been there since she’d made the decision to return to England. Then, there had been her granny’s warning about being perceived as a threat.

  Ah, but what if this had to do with some sort of belated reprisal for her first marriage? Her granny had warned her about the possibility of that happening.

  Nicholas had been a catch.

  His estates were not entailed. If they’d had a daughter, the title would have gone to her, along with all the property. As it was, the title had transferred to the next of kin, but the property and wealth had remained in Evie’s control.

  Of course, she would do her utmost to ensure the estate remained intact. The current Earl would not come into possession until he came of age. Meanwhile, she remained responsible for his wellbeing. The young boy had not only lost his father but soon after, his mother had succumbed to ill health, possibly brought on by the premature death of her husband.

  She received regular reports of the child’s welfare. Had someone new come into Seth’s life? Perhaps someone keen to influence the child?

  If anything happened to her…

  No. She simply refused to think about it. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to contact Seth’s guardian and make sure nothing unusual had been happening in his life.

  Bicky broke the silence and asked, “Are we going to let the others know?”

  Evie shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Besides, what would you tell them? That someone wants you dead or maybe they want me dead?” Could she trust them to keep the information to themselves? She wanted to think so, but the rumor mills had a way of cranking up and word spreading faster than the industrial revolution.

  “What does your chauffeur say about all this? After all, he was a witness to the first incident.”

  “I’m not sure yet. I insisted he stay at the pub.” Evie didn’t want to explain her reasons for doing that for fear of appearing to cast aspersions on Bicky’s household. “I suppose I should move away from the window. Although, I imagine we should be safe now. You have all your people running about the place. That’s enough to scare anyone off.” She looked out across the gardens. “It’s strange. You don’t have many trees near the house. One would think those ones near the folly would be too far away to use as a camouflage.”

  “Not necessarily,” Bicky disagreed. “Some rifles are quite efficient from a great distance.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’d know all about that.”

  Bicky plumped up his pillow with his good hand. “The Whitworth,” he mused.

  “What’s that?”

  “A single shot rifle. It has been in use since the 1850s. You should know something about it since it was used by Confederate sharpshooters in the American Civil War claiming the lives of several Union generals. It possesses excellent long-range accuracy. I believe we have a couple in our collection.”

  Evie checked the clock on the mantle. If she wanted to meet with Tom, she would have to set off now so she could be back in time to dress for dinner. Of course, she could telephone him and ask him to meet her here. After all, he had the car.

  At the sound of a knock at the door, Bicky answered with a sharp, “Come in.”

  “My apologies for disturbing you, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, what is it, Larkin?”

  “Miss Clarissa Wainscot has just ridden in. Should I show her through to the blue drawing room?”

  “Miss who?” Bicky asked.

  “Lady Wainscot’s daughter, Your Grace.”

  “What the devil is she doing here?”

  Larkin slanted his gaze toward Evie. “Miss Wainscot inquired after Lady Woodridge, Your Grace.”

  Bicky turned to Evie who shrugged.

  Larkin cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace. I be
lieve Miss Wainscot is after some news. I also believe Lady Wainscot might have sent her… as a scout.”

  Evie scratched around her mind trying to place the lady in question but came up empty.

  “She’s a neighbor,” Bicky explained. “Lives out at Hainsley Hall. Married to Baron Wainscot. He’s a good sort but the wife…” Bicky cringed. “She has two unmarried daughters. Need I say more?”

  No, he needn’t bother.

  Mamas with daughters of marriageable ages were notorious for drawing their claws during the process of carrying out their maternal duties to their offspring.

  “I’ll go down,” Evie offered.

  “No need to bother,” Bicky said. “The others can entertain her.”

  The butler gave a stiff nod. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall convey the message as best I can.”

  “I suppose I’m about to become the talk of the county,” Evie mused. “It can’t be helped. The locals were bound to be curious about my return.” Although, she still couldn’t imagine why that should be.

  “What if it’s more than that?” Bicky asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Surely you must have heard the rumors when you first married Nicholas. You snatched him right from under all those mamas’ noses. Until you came along, he’d been the most eligible bachelor around.”

  “Oddly enough, I only just entertained the same thought.” Evie tried to find some humor in it. “Do you think I’m about to get some belated backlash for stealing him away?”

  “It’s quite possible. People might think you’re here to fish around for your next husband. You’ve done it once. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

  Evie threw her head back and laughed. “If that had been my intention, I would have stayed in town. London always has the most promising candidates and opportunities.”

  “You seem to forget we have Mark Harper staying. Heir to his cousin, the Earl of Chatterlain. Not to mention Charles, Viscount Maison and also heir to his father’s title.”

  Oh, yes… She had forgotten.

  “The more I think about it, the more convinced I become… Oh, never mind.” She couldn’t be the target. Surely not…

  Chapter Six

  An unexpected visitor

  The Blue Drawing Room

  Promising to bring back some news, Evie returned to the drawing room where she found Miss Clarissa Wainscot deep in conversation with Lady Charlotte.

  Glancing around the drawing room, Evie received several nods. Clearly, Elizabeth had provided them with an update on Bicky’s condition. While everyone appeared to be eager for more news, they knew better than to bring up the subject in front of a visitor.

  Dressed in riding clothes, Miss Clarissa’s manner came across as exuberant. She sat on the edge of her chair, looking ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

  It took a moment for Evie to actually place the young woman. When she did, she realized she had actually heard of her two years before.

  Little did Miss Clarissa know Charlotte, Lady Chambers, had already made sport of her, declaring the fact the young Miss had reached the ripe old age of twenty-three without a single proposal as a veritable catastrophe. The girl had become a pariah for no other reason than her failure to shackle a man. Any man. It stood to reason, there had to be something wrong with her. Now, at twenty-five, Evie imagined Charlotte had cast the young girl as an absolutely lost cause.

  To Evie’s surprise, Charlotte appeared to have had some sort of change of heart.

  As Evie strode in, Charlotte chirped, “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. I have just agreed to sponsor Miss Wainscot in the coming season. She shall be my guest when I next visit town.”

  Evie couldn’t tell if Charlotte had made a sincere offer or if she’d merely wished to distract Miss Wainscot with a bee’s knees type of promise which she might or might not keep.

  “Splendid,” Evie offered and strode across the room.

  However, the small distance she had tried to put between herself and Miss Wainscot did not deter the young Miss.

  “Lady Woodridge. Are you here for the weekend or will you stay longer?” Miss Wainscot asked, which seemed rather forward since they hadn’t even been properly introduced.

  Before Evie could deliver her reply, Charlotte, bless her heart, piped in, “We’ll have to sort out your wardrove for your upcoming season. Competition is very stiff. Of course, I can’t promise anything, but I’m sure I can secure invitations to the sort of affairs where we might catch a glimpse of the Prince of Wales.”

  Miss Wainscot gasped. “The Prince of Wales! Mama will be beside herself when I tell her.”

  Charlotte gave a knowing nod. “Then you should make haste. I’m sure you’re simply dying to share the news with your mama.”

  Miss Wainscot rose to her feet only to waver. After all, she had presumably received clear instructions from her mama to extricate as much information as she could. It stood to reason, she could not return to Hainsley Hall empty-handed.

  At any other time, Evie would have humored the young woman with a tidbit, something… anything to take back with her, but she didn’t feel inclined to be generous. Not when she had an injured Duke and a possible attempt or two on her life to contend with.

  Nevertheless… She forced herself to dig deep.

  “It just occurred to me,” Evie said, “I made an appointment at Marceline’s Salon de Beaute without taking into account the planned activities at Yarborough Manor. Would you do me the favor of taking my place for a day of beauty treatment tomorrow? I’m sure the proprietress won’t mind,” she offered the young woman. “You want to be at your best when you’re… presented to the Prince of Wales.”

  Miss Wainscot gasped again. It seemed all her Christmases were coming at once. “You would do that… for me?” She turned to Charlotte and then back to Evie, her lips still slightly parted. “I’d been reluctant to impose on His Grace, but I’m so glad I made the trip out here.”

  Finally, Evie thought, as Miss Wainscot made a move to leave.

  She couldn’t help pondering over the effort it had taken to eject the young woman from the manor house without injuring her pride. In their place, anyone else would have simply shown her the door.

  Larkin cleared his throat the way he did when he was ready to announce someone.

  Good heavens, Evie thought. What now? Or, rather… Who?

  “There is a gentleman inquiring after Lady Woodridge. A Mr. Winchester.”

  It took a moment for Evie to realize he meant Tom. What on earth had possessed her chauffeur to come here and request an audience with her and why had he introduced himself as Mr. Winchester?

  Evie glanced over at Miss Wainscot and could see her ears had pricked up.

  Larkin cleared his throat again. “I’m sure His Grace will not mind if I show the gentleman to the library.”

  Nodding, Evie hoped he would be swift about it so Miss Wainscot would not cross paths with Mr. Winchester.

  However, Miss Wainscot had other ideas and, appearing to remember her priorities, she scurried after the butler saying, “Oh, Larkin. You could show me out first. That way you won’t have to make a round trip.”

  “As you wish, Miss Clarissa.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and sunk back in her chair mouthing, “I tried.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Evie hesitated, however she went on to say, “I am indebted to you.” She didn’t want to be, but a lack of gratitude would be a black mark against her. “I simply don’t understand why there is so much interest in my visit to Yarborough.”

  It seemed Evie had been living in a state of blissful ignorance because everyone’s eyebrows quirked up.

  As Bicky had wickedly pointed out, she was in the presence of two eligible bachelors.

  “Argh! I feel as though I’m caught in a spider’s web and possibly one of my own making because I’ve been protesting too much.” No, she would not marry again.

  Her widened eyes jumpe
d from Charles, Viscount Maison to Mark Harper who both grinned and winked at her. “Stop it. At once!”

  “But think of the sport we could have,” Charles said.

  She didn’t know Mark Harper very well, and yet, he played along too.

  “We might end up with an epic and outmoded pistols at dawn battle for you, Countess. Even if we don’t, think of how much fun it would be to spread the rumor about.”

  Evie recovered and gave them both an impish smile. “Is that so? Well, I’m not greedy and I do enjoy a bit of sport as much as the next person. In fact, probably more so. I do like an even playing field so I might invite Miss Clarissa. I hear she has a sister and a very eager mama.”

  Chapter Seven

  Have we met?

  Evie strode into the library and found Mr. Winchester standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, his attention fixed on some faraway place.

  “Tom,” Evie whispered.

  When he turned, she barely recognized him.

  Tom had changed out of his chauffeur’s uniform and into a soft collared shirt with a demure forest green tie and a fashionable two button suit jacket in earthy tones.

  A tall man with broad shoulders and narrow hips, he did the suit justice. In fact, she would easily mistake him for a country squire.

  He strode up to her, his manner casual yet brisk and commanding.

  “Ma’am. I hope you don’t find me impertinent. I heard about the commotion at the house.”

  Word had spread? Already?

  “By the way, I received your note and I can see the advantage of staying at the pub. In the brief time I was there, I heard enough conversations to realize how quickly word gets around. It would definitely serve as a vantage point. However…”

  Evie nodded. “Things have changed.” She gave him a brief summary of the events leading up to the shooting. “This time, there is no doubt. Someone took a shot at… Well, I don’t know. So, I suppose there is still some sort of doubt.”

  “How is the Duke?” Tom asked.

  “He’s fine. He only suffered a flesh wound. Thank heavens. But it could have been worse. In fact, it could have been fatal. If I hadn’t moved…” Evie pressed her hand to her throat. “I think I’m having a delayed reaction to the shock.”