Murder at the Tea Party: 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery)

by Sonia Parin

  Sara nodded. “Also, the Vicar’s wife made a valid point. If something were to happen to either Henrietta or myself… If either one of us fell ill, it would make sense to have someone step in. After all, we had decided to continue on with the idea of raising funds which makes the event that much more significant.”

  Henrietta cut in, saying, “Little did we know the Vicar’s wife had a plan in place. She had been most cunning in getting others, including Mrs. Howard-Smith, on side and inviting them to join our little group. To this day, I suspect Mrs. Howard-Smith may well be behind all this. They began by finding fault with everything we proposed. Finally, they suggested the ball would be better served at Witford Hall. At least, for the time being.”

  Evie remembered the lady in question had been present at lunch. “I take it Mrs. Howard-Smith has some influence over the owners of Witford Hall.”

  Henrietta harrumphed. “I’ll say she does since she is married to the owner. Edward Howard-Smith. He’s the youngest son of the Earl of Rosenthal. The year we couldn’t hold the ball at Halton House they offered the use of their house but then the Countess fell ill. That’s when the Vicar’s wife suggested Witford Hall.”

  “Oh… Has the Countess of Rosenthal recovered?” Evie asked.

  “She has, although you wouldn’t know it by the way she carries on. One moment she is at death’s door and the next, she is out and about riding. I have seen her with my own eyes. And yes, I am about to suggest she is in collusion with her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Howard-Smith, who has been kicking up a fuss about making a name for herself in the district. Apparently, she aspires to become a prominent social hostess. Evidently, by brute force.”

  “I don’t quite understand. Why didn’t they simply set up their own event?” Evie asked and watched as the dowagers gazed at her in admiration. Later, Evie would realize they had been in awe of her naivety.

  “Because Mrs. Howard-Smith wishes to have her way.” Henrietta turned to Clarissa. “Tell her what you told me earlier on.”

  Clarissa had been about to take a bite of cake. Urged by the dowager, she set the tasty morsel down. “Mrs. Howard-Smith intends to claim exclusive rights to hold the ball every year. She put that at the top of today’s agenda.”

  Henrietta declared, “I say we mount an offensive attack and hold our own ball. Not an alternative one but rather the one and only Hunt Ball.”

  “But won’t that cause more problems?” Evie asked. “Surely there is an amicable way around it all.”

  “They have thrown down the gauntlet,” Henrietta clipped out in her most indignant tone. “To the victor go the spoils and I aim to be victorious.”

  Chapter Three

  Fences to mend

  Halton House

  “Mrs. Howard-Smith,” Edgar announced.

  Evie gave the rebel a warm welcome. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

  “My apologies for being late,” Mrs. Howard-Smith offered. “We held another Hunt Ball Committee meeting today and I’m afraid it went on for longer than expected. So many details to take care of, and so little time to do it in.”

  Evie had, on occasion, heard whispered remarks about her brashness. She had always felt the observations had failed to take into account the reality of the matter. Yes, she sounded different but she also held her own opinions. And, being American should not, in her opinion, instantly label her as being brash.

  After her first encounter with Mrs. Howard-Smith and even after Henrietta’s harsh assessment of the woman’s concentrated effort to debunk her from her social position, Evie would not have described Mrs. Howard-Smith as being brash.

  However, judging by the tone employed to explain her tardiness, she would quite happily and without any reservations whatsoever declare the woman to be utterly and without any shame quite brash.

  She might even go so far as to say Mrs. Howard-Smith had flaunted her involvement in the Hunt Ball. In fact, she would make sure her report to the dowagers included the precise description of the woman’s attitude.

  Without a doubt, it had been brazenly arrogant.

  “How lovely it is to see you again. Won’t you come through?” Evie led her to the small drawing room; one of several rooms in the house designed specifically for the lady of the house to entertain small parties.

  “This is such a delightful room,” Mrs. Howard-Smith said.

  “Thank you. The Dowager Countess is solely responsible for the decorations. She has exquisite taste.” All the chairs in the room were upholstered in pretty floral and pastoral designs of pale green and pink to match the wallpaper.

  “And the view of the gardens is magnificent.” Mrs. Howard-Smith settled down and held Evie’s gaze for a moment. “Is anyone else joining us?”

  “No, I thought it might be best if we spoke alone.”

  Mrs. Howard-Smith gave a knowing nod. “I see. This is about the Hunt Ball.”

  “Let’s have some tea first.” Belatedly, Evie wished she had invited Mrs. Howard-Smith to lunch. A glass of fortifying wine would have been greatly appreciated.

  She’d never imagined having to play the role of peacemaker and had no idea how she would go about restoring a sense of harmony and goodwill between everyone involved. A difficult task to tackle, she knew, as there could only be one solution. The Dowager Countess would settle for nothing less than a full admission of guilt, an apology and a swift and humble retreat.

  Observing the rituals of tea making, Evie poured some hot water into the teapot, gave the pot a brief swirl and then tipped the water into a small bowl. She spooned in the special blend of tea and, after pouring some hot water, allowed the tea to steep.

  “You might find this strange,” Evie remarked, “I still consider myself a relative newcomer and even an outsider. When it comes to traditions, I believe in going with the flow. As I’ve often observed, making any suggestion that involves change requires faultless timing and delicate handling. Otherwise, one risks ruffling feathers and rupturing friendships.”

  Lifting her chin, Mrs. Howard-Smith asked, “Did the dowager happen to mention how she wished to head the committee and organize the event despite the fact it would be held elsewhere?”

  She hadn’t. Not really. Evie assumed Mrs. Howard-Smith had been referring to the previous year’s event when the Countess of Rosenthal had been taken ill and the event had been held at Witford Hall. In any case, she knew Henrietta would have happily offered to step into the Countess’ shoes. So, Evie had to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she had only wished to be of help.

  Trying not to frown, Evie also thought the dowager would have been well within her rights to insist on heading the committee.

  Upon further reflection, Evie remembered the dowager had claimed Witford Hall had been too far for her to travel to while at the same time overseeing the convalescing activities taking place at Halton House.

  Mrs. Howard-Smith had just lied to her…

  They managed to get through their first cup of tea and piece of lemon cake when, out of the blue, Mrs. Howard-Smith declared she would not back down, so any efforts to change her mind would be futile.

  She also added, “I had rather hoped you would join us, but it seems you wish to remain faithful to the old guard.”

  Evie could only respond with a slight lift of her eyebrows. She poured herself another cup of tea and, after a restorative sip, she said, “I do wish you would try to meet us half way.”

  “Us? Us?”

  To her dismay, Mrs. Howard-Smith took exception to the remark.

  “I really don’t need to hear this,” Mrs. Howard-Smith stated. “I will not be railroaded into toeing the line. I should have known better than to think you could be an ally. I thought I could trust you.”

  To do what? Evie couldn’t help wondering. Revolt against her own family?

  Realizing Evie would not be swayed to join forces with the rebels, Mrs. Howard-Smith erupted to her feet.

  Gripping the back of the chair, Mrs. Howard-Smi
th then concluded by saying, “It’s all fine and dandy for you when you’ve had everything handed in a silver platter. As you can see, your efforts to rein me in have failed. Good day.”

  A footman hurried to open the door for Mrs. Howard-Smith while Edgar stepped forward to say, “May I have your permission from here onwards to say you are not receiving visitors?”

  Evie took a sip of her tea and sighed. “If you wish, Edgar, but I doubt you will have the opportunity. I think Mrs. Howard-Smith has severed all connections with us and has cast us adrift.”

  “Indeed. But what right has she to do that?” Edgar murmured.

  Evie tried to think what she might have said to provoke such an outburst from Mrs. Howard-Smith. The shock over the woman’s abrupt departure still quaked through her when the door opened and Henrietta strode in, or rather, she marched in.

  Evie could not have been more surprised.

  “Well? Did you give her a piece of your mind?” Henrietta demanded. “If what the footman says is true, I dare say she deserved it.”

  Had the dowager been lurking in the shadows? A second later, it clicked. “You set me up. You knew I’d contact Mrs. Howard-Smith.”

  “Yes, of course. You are the voice of calm reason. We actually thought you might bring her around to our point of view but it seems we were wrong.”

  Evie looked heavenwards. “I doubt anyone can reason with her. She has a major fixation.”

  “Do tell,” the dowager encouraged.

  “She practically accused me of having a silver spoon in my mouth. What is her background?”

  The dowager rolled her eyes. “Merchandizing of sorts. Her family made their fortune importing cotton fabrics into the country. Or so the story goes. For all we know, they might have been rum smugglers.”

  Yes, it wouldn’t surprise Evie. Mrs. Howard-Smith had certainly displayed a character trait more suited to a brawler than a well brought up woman of substantial means.

  “I am sorry I couldn’t be of help,” Evie offered.

  “Oh, don’t apologize. I doubt anyone would have been able to reason with the woman.” Settling down at the table, the dowager asked, “Now, what are we to do with her? Death by poisoning would suit me.”

  Knowing the dowager’s secret predilection for Penny Dreadful novels, Evie smiled. “I doubt we’ll have to resort to such extreme measures.” Sighing, Evie added, “I don’t remember life in the country ever being so complicated.” When Evie had first settled into Halton House, she had been quick to fall in love with it all. A season for everything and ever so many activities to try to fit in. “What if this is only the beginning and she means to take over everything?”

  “That is precisely her intention and that is why we must nip her recalcitrant attitude in the bud,” the dowager said. “Now… Are you going to offer me some tea?”

  “Yes, of course. Have some cake too.”

  “Oh, thank you. Yes, I suppose if we are to do battle with the likes of her, we should keep up our strength,” the dowager remarked. “Don’t you agree, Edgar?”

  “I do, my lady.”

  Turning back to Evie, the dowager asked, “So, what is the plan? I assume you have a trump card up your sleeve.”

  Yes, she had. And she’d just used it up.

  Chapter Four

  High hopes for a bright new day

  Evie had never been happier to wake up to a new day. Since she had made a mess of the previous one, she decided to steer clear of the Hunt Ball debacle and devote her morning to visiting the local tenants.

  “Any sign of Tom?” Evie asked.

  “No, milady. In your place, I would worry about him driving around in that expensive motor car. What if he never returns?”

  Evie chortled. “What do you think he’ll do? Sell the car and live out his days in the Riviera?”

  “He might.”

  “It’s a Duesenbert and I’m sure it’s the first one to be brought into the country. The police would have no trouble tracing it. I think I would give him more credit than to try something so foolish.”

  “So, you have thought about it,” Caro mused.

  “No, I’m only humoring you because you are once again talking to me. I hope that means you have forgiven me.”

  “Not really, milady. I can’t help having strong opinions on the matter.” Caro lowered her voice to a whisper. “He is only seven years old.”

  “Will my hats continue to suffer for my sins?”

  “I shall try to control my urges, milady.”

  Reluctantly, Evie turned her thoughts to the previous day. She wished she hadn’t tried to intervene by inviting Mrs. Howard-Smith to tea. What had Mrs. Howard-Smith been thinking behaving as she had? It would make their next encounter that much more difficult. People were bound to talk. In fact, Evie suspected Mrs. Howard-Smith would make sure of it.

  “Caro, tell cook I will have breakfast in bed. There’s no point in setting up the breakfast table just for me. I will be making another attempt to call on the tenants so I will want something hardy to keep me going, please. She knows what I like.”

  “Very well, milady.” Caro opened the bedroom door just as someone knocked on it.

  Edgar strode in. “Begging your pardon, my lady. There is someone at the door requesting assistance.”

  “What sort of help do they need, Edgar?”

  “I believe their motor car has broken down not far from here,” Edgar explained.

  “Use your judgment, Edgar. If you think they look safe, invite them in and ask someone to tend to the car.”

  “It’s a woman, my lady. She looks harmless enough.”

  What could she have been doing out on the road at such an early hour and obviously alone? “Caro. I’ve changed my mind. I will be going down for breakfast. Edgar, please show the lady through to the library.”

  The young woman introduced herself as Miss Phillipa Brady.

  Evie recognized her from Mrs. Baker’s Delights. She had been the bright young thing who had caught everyone’s attention.

  “It’s very kind of you to offer me shelter, Lady Woodridge.” She tilted her head and added, “I think I recognize you from the tea room.”

  “Yes. Are you passing through?” Evie asked.

  “Is that what everyone wanted to know yesterday?”

  Evie smiled. “Yes, indeed. You caused quite a stir. But in a good way. I must say, I do love your trousers. They look quite comfortable.” The ‘bright young things’ everyone had been talking about had been making quite a splash with their outrageous ways. Being over thirty years old, Evie felt somewhat left out and a little envious...

  “Thank you. They are extremely comfortable. A friend designs them.”

  “Well. You’re just in time for breakfast.” Evie showed her through to the morning dining room where they helped themselves to a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and sausages as well as Evie’s favorite biscuits.

  Miss Phillipa Brady did not shy away from all the food on offer and ate with great gusto.

  “I couldn’t help noticing your accent,” Evie remarked.

  Phillipa nodded. “Australian. Yes, I’m a long way from home. And, considering I hail from the bush, that’s really a long way.”

  “The bush?”

  “Oh, that’s what we call the outback… the countryside. My folks run a cattle station. It’s what you’d refer to as a ranch.”

  “And what brings you out this way?”

  Phillipa shrugged. “Life. Excitement. The need to seek like-minded people. News from abroad reaches our shores at a snail’s pace. I wanted to be at the center of it all. As you can imagine, it’s difficult being artistic and adventurous when you’re living out in the middle of nowhere. I’m what you might call a bohemian at heart.”

  Evie laughed. “I believe the correct term nowadays is bright young thing or flapper.”

  “I don’t mind either one,” Phillipa said. “In fact, flapper rather suits me. I have been flapping about. There’s so much to see
and do here.”

  “Here? In Berkshire?”

  “Well, not exactly. I mean in London.”

  “So, if all the excitement is back in London, what brings you out this way?”

  “A car rally. I will be joining a group I met in London and we’ll be driving around. I believe they are also planning a sort of treasure hunt.”

  “Oh, that does sound rather exciting.” Evie wondered if anyone could join. It would be just the thing to break up the routine she knew she would eventually fall into.

  Edgar had a brief exchange with a footman and then cleared his throat to announce, “The Dowager Countess of Woodridge.”

  Which one? And… At this time of morning?

  Henrietta entered, her stride determined. “I came as soon as I heard.” Noticing the other person sitting at the table, Henrietta acknowledged her with a nod.

  Evie made the introductions and explained Phillipa’s presence. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

  Sounding out of breath, the dowager said, “I should eat something, yes. I left the house in rather a hurry. In fact, I left as soon as news reached me.”

  “How did you get here?” Evie asked.

  “Hobson drove me, of course.”

  Her chauffeur had driven her and yet she looked and sounded out of breath.

  Holding her hand to her chest, Henrietta said, “I have notified Sara. I appeared to have been first in with the news. She knew nothing about it. She still has her breakfast in bed and her maid has always been rather slow and unusually disinterested in news.”

  Evie spread some strawberry jam on her toast. “I am almost anxious to hear the news, but I imagine you will tell me in good time.”