“Now, Miss Lucy, I must beg a favor.”
“What is it, Davish?”
“I must ask everyone actually, if I may. If you decide to repeat what I’ve told you, please be so kind as to not use my name. As Mrs. Grice so kindly pointed out, I do work for my living and must maintain a certain level of integrity. Besides, I wouldn’t want to embarrass Sir Arthur before he even returns.”
“Yes, good thinking, Davish,” Miss Lucy said, nodding her head vigorously. We both knew full well that the source of the rumor never mattered, only the probability that it could be true.
“Of course, dear,” Miss Lizzie said. “You have our word.” Walter and his mother nodded in agreement as well.
“Thank you,” I said.
James, the footman turned butler, arrived then, bringing a fresh pot of tea. He caught my eye as he bent down to set it on the tea tray. A slight smile flitted across his lips. His eyes sparkled. I was glad to see him happy.
“Oh, Chase, dear,” Miss Lizzie said, “would you bring more butter?”
“Of course, Miss Shaw,” James said, a consummate professional again. We waited for him to leave before discussing Gideon Mayhew again.
“I guess that explains why I saw Gideon Mayhew’s yacht sail out of the harbor a little while ago,” Walter said. I wasn’t surprised. Mrs. Mayhew must’ve convinced him to leave before the rumors spread. “He’ll go back to New York, or even to Europe, until someone else’s name is clouded in scandal.”
“You did?” Miss Lucy said.
“Yes, I quite enjoyed getting out on the water yesterday,” Walter said, winking at me. “So I decided to rent a skiff to get a better look around seaside. I saw him heading out to sea as I was docking.”
“Well, that’s what I would do too if I’d killed a man,” Mrs. Grice said in disgust.
“The Sibley man was killed with a gun, wasn’t he?” Miss Lucy asked. “One of those little pocket pistols?”
“Yes,” I said, worried what she might say next.
“Then maybe Gideon killed Harland as well? They never did find Harland’s gun.”
“Oh, dear,” Miss Lizzie said. “Do you think so?”
“Not necessarily,” I said, knowing the full truth of Mr. Whitwell’s tragic death. “Any one of the derringers the Newport Shooting Club members receive as a symbol of membership could’ve been used. Besides, Mr. Mayhew was in New York at the time.”
“Either way, I’m disappointed in you, Davish,” Miss Lucy said.
“Why, dear?” her sister asked before I could.
“She should’ve solved that murder too.”
“Miss Davish is a secretary and not a policeman, Miss Lucy,” Walter said, coming to my defense.
“I know that,” Miss Lucy said peevishly. “But I wanted to know who did it!”
“Maybe his son did it? He’s quite the disreputable young man,” Julia Grice said, curiously joining the conjecture. Maybe knowing I was no threat to her plans, she was relaxing in my presence. “Like you said, that gun was never found.”
“Yes, maybe Nick did it,” Miss Lucy said hopefully.
I felt frustrated and helpless. I’d done my job; I’d uncovered the truth about Harland Whitwell’s death. Yet I couldn’t stop everyone from wondering. Nor could I stop whatever rumors they might spread about Nick Whitwell’s involvement in his father’s death. Maybe the gossip would force Jane Whitwell to reveal the truth. I could only hope so.
“That reminds me, dear,” Miss Lizzie said. “I heard yesterday that Cora Mayhew called off the engagement.”
“Well, that’s not surprising,” Miss Lucy said. “I should’ve known when Lady Phillippa mentioned her son escorted Cora to the polo match.”
“Supposedly the name of one Miss Electra Culver, a young girl of seventeen, has been connected with him. From what I heard,” Miss Lizzie said, “the two were spotted au naturel at Bailey’s Beach.”
Mrs. Grice gasped. Miss Lucy frowned.
“Lizzie, how long have you known this? And how did you know and I didn’t?”
As the two sisters continued to argue, Walter said, “With all your investigating, have you had a chance to collect any plants?” His mother scowled as Walter turned from me to her. “Miss Davish here is an excellent amateur botanist.”
“Yes, thank you for asking, Dr. Grice,” I said, the words in my mouth sounding so formal. “Newport has proven a rich hunting ground for new specimens. I could show you sometime if you’d like.”
“My son has no interest in your plant collection,” Julia Grice said.
“You’re wrong, Mother,” Walter said. “Many medicines have their basis in botanicals. Besides, I’m most interested in everything Miss Davish does.”
“Walter!” his mother exclaimed. “Be careful what you say. Such a declaration could be misconstrued.”
“Very well, then I must be more clear.” Walter stood up and walked over to me. Miss Lizzie and Miss Lucy stopped their conversation and watched as he offered me his hand. I took it and he assisted me from my chair. He placed my hand on his arm and escorted me across the room to face his mother.
“Mother,” he said. “I don’t think you and Miss Davish have been properly introduced.”
“Walter,” his mother said, trying hard to avoid looking at anyone in the room. “This is most unbecoming. You are needlessly misleading this poor girl. Please sit down.”
“Miss Davish, this is Mrs. Winston Grice, my mother,” Walter said, ignoring his mother’s reprimand. “And Mother,” he said, gazing into my eyes and bringing my hand to his lips, “this is Miss Hattie Davish, the woman I love.”
Miss Lizzie, dropping her second half-eaten crumpet into her lap, butter-side down, clapped her hands and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, Walter, dear,” she said. “I knew it.”
“It’s about time,” Miss Lucy added.
“Is this true, Walter?”
“Yes, Mother, it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, very sure.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Grice said. I didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Grice took a deep breath and finally looked at me. She didn’t offer her hand, she didn’t smile, but suddenly I knew what Mrs. Mayhew must’ve felt when Mrs. Astor’s calling card finally arrived when Walter’s mother nodded slightly and said, “Then I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Davish.”
“And I yours, Mrs. Grice.” And I meant it. I’d never been more pleased in my life.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Anna Loan-Wilsey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-7639-1
eISBN-10: 0-7582-7639-7
First Kensington Electronic Edition: July 2014
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7638-4
A Sense of Entitlement (A Hattie Davish Mystery) Page 30