Murder at the Hunt Ball : A 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery

by Sonia Parin

  “Oh, thank goodness,” they heard Henrietta exclaim. She stood at the doorway, clearly looking out for them. “What has been going on? We didn’t dare leave Cousin Carolina alone and no one will tell us anything.”

  “We’ve had an eventful night, Henrietta. I think it would be best to get out of everyone’s way and let the police do their job.”

  “I see, you’ve been chastised.”

  “On the contrary.” Turning to Lotte, Evie felt and sounded surprised when she said, “I actually feel we served a purpose.” It would be interesting to see if the detective would call on them the next day. “Is Caro up to walking?”

  Before Henrietta could say anything, Tom suggested bringing the motor car around. “I’ll go tell Edmonds.”

  “But what about our unfinished business here?” Henrietta asked. “Surely there is more we can do.”

  Insisting they needed to leave, Evie said, “We’ll only get in everyone’s way, I’m sure.”

  “What if they lie? Shouldn’t you wait to see if they do? I’m sure the detective will want the facts verified.”

  “We already told him everything we saw,” Evie insisted. “As well as a few assumptions we’ve made.”

  Henrietta shuddered. “This will give me a restless night.”

  “I’m sorry, Henrietta. Perhaps a cup of hot cocoa will help you sleep.”

  “Just don’t be surprised to find me at your doorstep early tomorrow morning.”

  “What’s this?” Sara asked as she emerged from the butler’s room.

  Henrietta filled her in on the developments. “I feel like a child being sent to bed before hearing the end of the story.”

  Lotte and Evie went upstairs to collect everyone’s coats and were not surprised to see the guests gathered around the great hall. The music had stopped and they were all talking in hushed whispers.

  One of the detectives had commandeered the library and, judging by the vibe of expectancy Evie picked up, everyone sat in readiness to be interviewed.

  The butler called a footman to assist them with carrying their coats. As they waited, Evie glanced around and took note of all the people of interest they had been observing. “I don’t see anyone fidgeting or complaining about being interviewed by the police.”

  “Do you think that’s a sign of a guilty person?” Lotte asked. “I’ve been at this job for a while and there doesn’t appear to be a specific trait. Some guilty people complain bitterly, while others bide their time and focus on portraying themselves as innocent.”

  “And yet both could be guilty?” Evie asked.

  Nodding, Lotte added, “They always slip up and do something to give themselves away.”

  “Or they leave a trail of evidence.”

  “Precisely, and it’s a detective’s job to find it and make sense of it.”

  So what information did they have so far? “Apart from the fact some people were absent from the ball, can we link anything else we have learned to George Stevens’ death? Something that can be used as irrefutable proof?”

  “Now you’re beginning to sound like a lady detective.”

  Evie searched for Sterling Wright and his fiancée, but she couldn’t see them anywhere. “I suppose Sterling will understand if we leave without saying goodnight. I wonder if anyone will question why we are not remaining.”

  When the footman had all their coats, he led the way and they went down the servants’ stairs. To Evie’s surprise, he didn’t show any signs of finding the idea of them using the back stairs strange.

  Belatedly, it occurred to ask Lotte, “Are you annoyed because I suggested we leave?”

  “Not at all,” Lotte said. “We’ve done enough for one night. Apart from continuing to do what we were doing, I don’t really see the point of remaining.” Nudging Evie, Lotte pointed to the footman. She cleared her throat, and said, “There’s been quite a commotion here tonight.”

  He turned slightly. “I hope it hasn’t ruined your evening, madam.”

  “Do you know anything about what happened?”

  “There have been whispers about a body discovered in the stables.”

  “I can confirm it for you. We were the ones who found the body.”

  “Was it one of the guests?” he asked.

  “Yes, indeed. You might have seen him. Mr. George Stevens.” Lotte went on to describe him.

  “Oh, yes. I believe I served him a drink this evening.”

  “Did you happen to notice anything unusual tonight? Anyone coming down this way?”

  “Someone other than yourselves?” He shook his head. “No. I spent most of the evening in the ballroom. The others might know something.”

  Lowering her voice, Lotte said, “We would be very keen to hear about it.”

  “I believe arrangements could be made,” he said just as they reached the ground floor and the butler’s room at which point he proceeded to assist everyone into their coats.

  While Lotte focused on negotiating with the footman, Evie walked up to Caro. “We are taking you home.”

  Sidling up to her, Henrietta murmured, “We will have to make arrangements. I’ll explain in a moment.”

  Evie tried to read the dowager’s raised eyebrow expression but she became confused when Henrietta signaled to the housekeeper.

  “Mrs. Brook will be keeping us abreast of the situation.”

  “I see.” She turned and saw Lotte still in deep conversation with the footman. All along, Henrietta had been busy expanding her web of information spies.

  Thanking the housekeeper and maid, they made their way to the waiting motor cars. The ambulance had left but the police vehicles were still there.

  As Henrietta climbed into the motor, she turned to Evie, “I’m afraid I have committed to compensating the housekeeper for her troubles. It seems information will not be freely given. I’m sorry, I fear I have failed the team. This will cost you.”

  “I see. It’s coming out of my pocket.” Evie smiled.

  “I’m sure it will be worth it since we’ll be receiving information, more or less, straight from the horse’s mouth.” Henrietta sat back and sighed. After a moment, she turned to Evie and smiled. “Race you back to Halton House?”

  Later that night

  The library, Halton House

  Seeing Evie entering the library, Tom asked, “Has everyone been tucked in for the night?”

  “Yes, Henrietta grumbled about spending the night here. She actually said she would feel safer in the dower house since we would most likely be targets.”

  “What about Caro?”

  Evie stopped to pour two glasses of brandy. Frowning, she turned to Tom. “Did you say you don’t like brandy or was that an excuse to avoid spending half an hour in the company of the other men?”

  He grinned.

  Taking the drink over to him, she sat down. “Caro talked about having my hair shingled and going through my wardrobe because she thought the color scheme needed to be refreshed. If I didn’t know her at all, I would have suspected her of rambling and not being quite right in the head. However, her chatter remained the same as always. I asked Millicent to sit with her. I left her reading The Secret Garden but couldn’t help noticing she had a copy of D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers tucked out of sight, or so she thought. When I came out of Caro’s room, I found Edmonds had settled down for the night in a comfortable chair by the door. Apparently, he is determined to keep watch.”

  Tom told her he had made the rounds of the house and the grounds and had spoken with the stable hands who had all been alerted of the night’s events. “I doubt anyone will get much sleep tonight.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone breaking into the house to harm Caro. She could not have seen anything. You saw how dark it was outside.”

  “True. However, I’m sure we’re dealing with a desperate person or persons willing to do anything.”

  “To what end? That’s what I don’t understand. What did they gain by George Stevens’ death?”

&n
bsp; They sat watching the fire and listening to the soothing crackling of the logs. The clock on the mantle struck the hour. One in the morning. If nothing had happened at the ball, they would only just be thinking about returning home.

  “Halton House is like a fortress,” she mused, almost as if she needed reassuring. Telling herself all would be well, she asked, “What were you reading?”

  “The newspaper. What is the country to do with so many surplus women?”

  “I wish they’d ease up and stop blaming women and saying they have become a burden on society. It’s not their fault so many men did not return from the war. In fact, these women deserve empathy. Society places so many expectations on them and now, through no fault of their own, they are being denied the opportunity of marriage and, as a result, they have been turned into outcasts.”

  “I had no idea you held such strong opinions.”

  “If I didn’t hold them, I should.” Evie sighed into her glass. “I read the newspapers too and I try to ignore such articles but they are infuriating. I have no trouble imagining the average person going around and blaming the country’s woes on women who are now destined to remain single.”

  “So you don’t think it’s a serious issue?”

  “Actually, I do. One article suggested they should pack up their worldly goods and travel to Canada or Australia where, apparently, there are more men than women. Not only are they portrayed as burdens but they are also thought of as disposable. That is simply not right. Just because marriage might no longer be an option doesn’t mean they can’t lead productive lives.” Evie lowered her gaze and smiled. “I’ve already been married once, perhaps I should send you on your way. It feels greedy to snatch another man.”

  “Do I get a say?”

  Shifting, she finished her brandy and set the glass down. “Marjorie Devon might have been one of the two million surplus women. She lost her fiancée in the Great War but now she’s managed to land herself another man.”

  Tom set his glass down and studied her. “Something tells me there’s a thought taking shape in your mind.”

  “What would she do to maintain the status quo?”

  Tom didn’t need to give it much thought. “She could make herself out to be a victim. Gain sympathy. Tap into a man’s protective instincts.”

  That would make her terribly cunning, Evie thought.

  “Do you think Marjorie Devon is capable of writing the letters to herself?”

  Evie laughed. “Wouldn’t that be funny. No one would dare believe it.”

  Tom tipped his head back. “She knew about the letters and yet the knowledge her life might be in danger didn’t stop her from getting out and about.”

  Evie nodded. “Because she knew the threat had been fabricated. It’s an interesting theory. Unfortunately, it would mean the letters have no connection to George Stevens’ death.” Stretching, she yawned. “So much for distractions.”

  “So you’re not serious about the idea of Marjorie inventing the threat?”

  “She’s young and pretty and Sterling Wright seems to care for her. She’d have to be supremely insecure to feel she stood on shaky ground with him.”

  “What happened to thinking George Stevens had sent her the letters?”

  Evie chortled. “He’s… he was a criminal. Do you really think he’d resort to writing letters to get his message across? If he’d wanted to deliver a message, he would have sent a crony to do it in a threatening way.”

  “Are you now saying she has no connection to his death?”

  “I think we were distracted by the letters. Maybe if we stop thinking about them, we might find another trail to follow. I wonder how the police will tackle the case.”

  “They might not see any reason to investigate it,” Tom suggested.

  “Because of his criminal life? Surely everyone deserves justice.”

  “Your impartiality is commendable.”

  Evie grinned. “Did you fall for it?”

  Tom grinned right back at her. “Did you?”

  They spent another hour trying to sift through what they knew only to hit another dead end.

  They followed their conversation with a quiet study of the various newspapers stacked on the shelves.

  “Here’s another article about Sterling’s purchase of the horse.” Tom handed her the newspaper.

  “Oh, there’s a photograph of the horse.”

  “Yes, and a description.”

  “Chestnut with a white diamond shape. I remember Sterling describing him as brown.”

  “And you found that odd.”

  Evie shrugged. “Most people I know who are enthusiastic horse owners are so passionate about their horses they always talk at great length about them.” Despite the warmth from the fire, Evie shivered. “I expect the detective will be paying us a visit tomorrow. He will most likely wish to speak with Caro. The moment I stop thinking, my mind fills with images of something really dreadful happening to Caro. I hold myself responsible. She should not have gone out by herself.”

  “Caro has her own mind.”

  “Yes, and I’m usually at the receiving end of her thoughts.” Inspecting her nails, she hummed. “The more involved I become in this venture, the more she will want to participate. What if it happens again? I’m not sure I can accept the burden of responsibility.”

  “We will have to be more organized and safety conscious,” Tom assured her.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t say there is danger in crossing the road.”

  “I didn’t feel I needed to remind you.”

  “I wonder… What if I find her a husband?”

  Tom laughed. “You want to domesticate her?”

  “It’s worth a try. At least she won’t come to harm because of me.”

  “Do you actually believe Caro would settle for marriage when she could have a life of adventure?”

  “She might. I’ll just have to make sure she has the option to choose.” She glanced at him. “I believe I just sounded like Henrietta.”

  Chapter 18

  The next day

  Evie reached over her head to pull the bell only to remember she had told Caro to take a couple of days to recuperate.

  Someone, probably Millicent, had drawn the curtains so she couldn’t tell how early or late she had woken up.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to remember if she and Tom had made any plans for the day. The night before, they had covered a lot of ground without getting anywhere. As far as they were concerned, the matter now rested fully in the hands of the police. They alone would decide if and how to proceed.

  Flinging the bedcovers off, she jumped to her feet and drew the curtains open. “It’s definitely morning. And, judging by the mist, quite early.”

  Half an hour later, she stood in front of her wardrobe wondering how Caro always managed to chat while selecting one piece of clothing after the other, all matched perfectly.

  She looked over her shoulder and cringed at the pile of clothes she had brought out. “There is definitely no such thing as a simple task.”

  Picking up a skirt, she set it to one side. “Who left the ballroom first?” She pointed to the skirt. “Marjorie?” Next, she picked up a blouse and set it beside the skirt. “At the same time, we noticed George Stevens and his wife were no longer in the ballroom.” Unfortunately, she thought, no one had thought to follow George Stevens. Selecting another blouse, she placed it next to Marjorie’s skirt. “According to Caro, Lotte followed Marjorie at a discreet distance.”

  Walking back to the wardrobe, she removed three skirts and set them down alongside each other. “Henrietta and Sara followed the Prentiss couple, but they lost them…”

  A light knock at the door had her swinging around.

  Millicent walked in. Evie had no need for two lady’s maids but after a brief visit from the town house, Millicent had fallen well and truly in love with Edgar and Evie hadn’t had the heart to break the couple apart. Especially as, at the time, she h
ad been intent on keeping her butler happy for fear that he might find another job and leave her.

  Smiling, Millicent gave her a cheerful greeting and proceeded to chat as she put all the garments away.

  “Milady, you didn’t ring for me so I thought I would come up and see if you were awake.”

  Seeing her display of suspects dismantled, Evie gasped.

  “Caro slept like a log but she’s already dressed and insisting she will have breakfast downstairs with the rest of us and she will not listen to reason. So I had to rush here because she’d already started heading this way. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has her ear pressed to the door, milady. She told me you will most likely trek out today and you should wear your warm boots with the fur lining and I should match it with your green tweed, the one with the hints of orange, not the one with the blue because she warned me you wore that a couple of days ago and if I don’t heed her advice she is going to do dreadful things to me. I don’t wish to test her.”

  Evie tried to follow Millicent’s chatter but, as usual, she got lost along the way.

  When Millicent stepped back, Evie realized she was dressed in the skirt she had used as a prop for Marjorie and a blouse she had used to identify George Stevens or had it been Lotte?

  “I’m not sure about that blouse because it has the little mother of pearl buttons and I think this is the one Caro told me you shouldn’t wear with this tweed, but I think it looks lovely so we’ll keep it on and if Caro puts her foot down you might want to say you like it too, although, Caro is likely to tell you I have been a bad influence and you should not listen to me because I have no sense whatsoever.”

  “I promise.” As she looked at her reflection, Evie asked, “How is Caro’s cheek? Has it changed color?”

  “It’s quite sore, milady. While she hasn’t complained, I did notice her wince a couple of times. The redness has faded and there are hints of blue and yellow and a touch of green. If anyone says someone slapped Caro they would be wrong because I grew up with three brothers and I know what a bruise looks like. Especially a bruise from a fist. Someone punched our Caro and she can’t confirm it because she doesn’t have a clear recollection of what happened last night so I suppose we will never know for sure. If only the person had worn a ring. Of course, that would have caused more damage but at least we would have some sort of lead to follow.”