The Last Mrs. Summers

by Rhys Bowen

  It was Belinda’s turn to look confused. “Tony Summers? You’re married to Tony Summers?”

  Now Rose’s look had turned to a triumphant smile. “That surprises you, does it? Little Rosie Barnes.”

  “But I had no idea Tony came back to this part of the world.” Belinda still sounded flustered. “And Trewoma Hall? How did you wind up there? Are you renting it from the Trefusis family?”

  “No. We own it,” Rose said. There was a sort of forced bravado about the way she tossed her head.

  “They sold to you?”

  Rose shook her head now. “No. It wasn’t like that. I don’t suppose you ever heard that Jonquil’s parents were killed in an aeroplane crash in the West Indies? Well, Jonquil inherited the property. Tony married Jonquil and unfortunately Jonquil died after only a year of marriage.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Was it an illness?”

  “An accident. She fell off the cliffs,” Rosie said. “A part of the cliff crumbled away and she fell.”

  “How tragic,” Belinda said. “If anyone loved life it was Jonquil, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re right. She took all kinds of risks—she used to love playing polo, hunting, and surfing in the big waves, but in the end it was her own home that killed her.”

  “So Tony inherited Trewoma?” Belinda asked.

  Rose nodded. “There were no more Trefusis members. Tony inherited.”

  “Lucky for him. Lucky for you,” Belinda said. “How did you two meet again?”

  “In London, amazingly. I had taken a secretarial course and was working as a secretary for a solicitor in London. Sharing digs with some girls in Camden Town. Rather run-down sort of place. I had treated myself to a day in the West End and I met Tony walking through Hyde Park. Can you believe the coincidence? I think he was still coming to terms with the loss of his wife and he was glad to see a friendly face. We had dinner together. And we corresponded for a while, and then one thing led to another.”

  “I’m very happy for you,” Belinda said. Her voice sounded as if she wasn’t happy at all. “I expect your mother is very proud too.”

  “She is. I’ve invited her to come and live with us but she likes her own life. She enjoys the freedom after all those years.” She paused. “So what brings you back here now? On a bit of a holiday, are you?”

  “No, I came to see a piece of property that my grandmother left me.”

  “I was sorry to hear that your grandmother finally died. My mum wrote and told me,” Rose said. “Too bad she sold Trengilly or we could have been neighbors.”

  “She’s left me a nice house in Bath,” Belinda said, “and a cottage called White Sails. Do you know it?”

  “The old fishing shack?” Rosie chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’d want to hang on to that. Perched on the edge of the cliff, isn’t it? About to fall down at any moment. I’d be thinking of Jonquil all the time I was there.”

  She seemed to be aware of me for the first time. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know your friend.”

  “Oh, forgive me. Where are my manners,” Belinda said. She still sounded flustered. “Rose Summers, this is my good friend Lady Georgiana. Used to be Rannoch, but is now Mrs. O’Mara.”

  Rose extended a chubby hand on which were several rings. “Pleased to meet you,” she said. Then she paused, staring at me. “But I’ve seen your picture, haven’t I? It was in the Tattler this summer. Your wedding. The king and queen attended and the little princesses were bridesmaids, weren’t they?”

  “They were,” I agreed. “I was scared stiff with all those royals present.”

  “But you’re related to them, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. The king is my father’s first cousin. That makes me once removed, I believe.”

  “Fancy that.” Rose looked really impressed. “And you and Miss Belinda are friends, then?”

  “We have been since we were at school together in Switzerland.”

  “Isn’t that nice? You must come to Trewoma for tea while you’re here. I’d love to show you around. Are you staying nearby?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” Belinda said. “We only arrived last night and obviously can’t stay at White Sails the way it is at the moment. No proper bathroom, for one thing. But there don’t seem to be any rooms for rent at this time of year. Is there still a ferry across to Padstow? I wonder if we’d find a hotel or boarding house over there.”

  “Then you must come and stay with us,” Rose exclaimed. “Tony would love to meet you again after all this time and I’d welcome the company. It can feel rather gloomy stuck away in a big house like Trewoma.”

  “Oh no,” Belinda said, rather too hastily, I thought. “We couldn’t possibly put you out.”

  “It would be no trouble. We’ve a pack of servants with not enough to do and certainly enough bedrooms to host an army. Do come.” She put her hand on Belinda’s arm. “I absolutely insist. Let me go on home ahead of you and make sure that rooms are made up for you.”

  “That really is awfully kind of you,” Belinda said.

  “What else would I do for an old friend?” Rose said. “We’ll have some good chats about old times, won’t we?”

  “Oh, definitely,” Belinda said. “We are most grateful, Rose. We’ll follow along in a while, then, shall we? I want to show Georgie the harbor and the ferry.”

  “You know where to find us, I take it?” And Rose laughed as she walked toward a shiny new Daimler motorcar parked across the street.

  Belinda waited until Rose had driven off, then she turned back to me. There was a look on her face that I couldn’t read.

  “That was jolly kind of her, wasn’t it?” I said. “Now we’ll have a decent bathroom and a bed that doesn’t squeak.”

  I stopped, seeing her face. She was angry, but more than that. She was confused too.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Old friends, indeed,” she snapped. “Do you know who she was? She was my grandmother’s cook’s daughter. She lived with an aunt for most of the year but she used to come to stay with us in the summers. She was a pathetic creature, really. She hung around and wanted to be part of our group. We usually let her although Jonquil could be quite scathing about her. She wasn’t at all athletic like the rest of us, you see. If it came to climbing rocks, she had to be rescued. She couldn’t ride, so she didn’t join us if we went out on our ponies. And she wasn’t even that grateful when we included her. A bit of a sneak, you know. She spied on me. Read my diary. Told tales.”

  “Well, I suppose everyone improves after childhood. I was shy and awkward when I first met you,” I commented.

  “Yes, but she was the cook’s daughter.”

  “Belinda, that’s horribly snobbish of you. You should be pleased that she’s improved her status in life and made a good marriage.”

  “I suppose I would be if I hadn’t disliked her so much before. But that’s not the only fly in the ointment here. The main problem is Tony Summers.”

  “He was one of your group down here?”

  She nodded. “He was the group’s leader. He and Jonquil. We were all in awe of both of them and followed them around. His father was something in the City. Banking or investing. Incredibly rich. Tony went to Eton. They rented a place down here every summer and Tony would come with his mother while his father stayed in London. He was very handsome even then. And so cocky, so self-assured. All the girls had a crush on him. I certainly did, but he didn’t ever notice me. I was two years younger and rather gangly and awkward at that age.”

  “So why are you reluctant to see him again?” I asked.

  Belinda chewed on her lip, something she did only in moments of great anxiety. “Because a few years ago I bumped into him in London. We were both gambling at Crockfords. We had a drink together. It turned out his father had lost his fortune in the great crash of twenty
-nine. Tony was articled to a chartered accountant and hated it. Bored to tears. Anyway, there was this instant spark between us and . . . and we had this wild little fling.” She paused. “That was before the time we went to Hollywood and I met . . . you know.”

  I nodded. I did know. She had fallen in love and been betrayed there.

  “Tony would have been a good match for you, even without all his money,” I said. “Why didn’t it last?”

  “Because we’d been together for a couple of weeks when he let it slip out that he was engaged. I didn’t realize at the time but it must have been to Jonquil. Anyway, I told him that I wasn’t going to go on seeing him if he was engaged to another woman.” She paused, as if the memory was painful.

  “You did the right thing,” I said.

  “I suppose so. But afterward I asked myself if he might have broken off the engagement and married me instead if I’d kept on seeing him.”

  “You really liked him, then?”

  “It was the residual effect of that adolescent crush, I expect. But we did have fun together. I can’t believe he married Rose. What did he see in her? She must be the least exciting person in the universe. Utterly boring.”

  “You don’t know that. She may have improved since you knew her. And anyway, she provided him with a shoulder to cry on after he lost his wife. Presumably he was in love with Jonquil?”

  “Maybe.” Belinda shrugged, staring out past me to where a small passenger ferry was chugging to the jetty. “Maybe he saw a good opportunity by marrying a rich heiress,” she said. “He always was a risk-taker. Not exactly the reliable type, as he proved by not telling me about his engagement for two weeks that we spent mostly in bed.”

  “Oh dear,” I said. “So this stay at Trewoma will be doubly awkward for you?”

  Belinda gave an exasperated smile. “You can say that again!”

  Chapter 8

  OCTOBER 16

  HEADING FOR TREWOMA HALL, CORNWALL

  A change of fortune at last. No more sleeping on the lumpy, creaky bed with the chamber of horrors in the cellar. We’ll be in great comfort for the rest of our stay but unfortunately Belinda is not too happy about it. Oh dear. I hope it will be all right!

  “We don’t have to stay long,” I said as we walked back to Belinda’s motor. “We can always claim we’re needed back in London.”

  “Except that I’d really like to be close by to supervise the work on the cottage,” Belinda said. “For that the position is ideal. I’ll just have to be grown-up about it, to be cool but civil to Tony and polite to Rose. Mrs. Summers.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine anyone less suited to being mistress of Trewoma?”

  “You may be surprised,” I said. “She had the gumption to go up to London and become a secretary. She didn’t just marry the nearest fisherman down here. And she certainly dresses well.” I wagged a finger as an idea struck me. “You can design a wardrobe for her. As a thank-you for her hospitality. She’ll be thrilled and impressed.”

  “I suppose I could.” Belinda toyed with the idea. “Oh well. She wants time to prepare the staff for our invasion. We’d better take that stroll down to the harbor,” she continued as I fell into step beside her. “I wonder how she handles staff in a big house like that. They must all know she was a cook’s daughter. I bet that doesn’t go down well.”

  “Poor Rose,” I said. “I’m beginning to feel sorry for her.”

  “Sorry for her? My dear, she’s just landed the plum. The nicest house for miles around and Tony Summers. What more could one want?”

  “You’re jealous. That’s why you’re so miffed,” I teased.

  She nodded. “You’re right. Absolutely green with envy!”

  “Except you wouldn’t want to be stuck down here all the time, would you? I’ve just found that being mistress of a great house can be boring and lonely. You always were such a party girl.”

  “Not anymore, darling.” She sighed. “Remember. Pure and virginal. In fact the convent is the only future that may be right for me.”

  I looked at her face and saw it twitch into a smile. “You’re pulling my leg again. Anyway, it’s like falling off a horse. You have to get right back on again. It should be like that for you and men. You had a bad experience. Now you can start dating some good eggs.”

  “If there are any that haven’t been snapped up by people like Rosie Barnes!” she said and stomped ahead of me.

  We came down to the estuary. The little ferry had disgorged its passengers and was now chugging back to Padstow on the other side. Padstow, I could see from here, looked like the traditional Cornish harbor town with houses clinging to the hillside above a harbor wall. This side had no proper sheltered cove, only a jetty. Most of the boats were moored out in the channel and were now sitting on the sandy bottom, the tide having receded. Beside the jetty there was a tackle shop, displaying everything from marine engines to buckets, spades and shrimping nets for young holidaymakers. I didn’t think there would be much call for those at this time of year.

  “Not exactly a lot to see, is there?” Belinda said. “The whole place is deserted.”

  “It is October,” I pointed out. “And when you think of the weather yesterday it would hardly entice anyone down here. Would you say those are fishing boats or only pleasure craft?”

  Belinda examined them. “Oh, I think the fishing boats would be on the other side at Padstow,” she said. “Good little harbor there. It wouldn’t be much good trying to make your living as a fisherman if your boat was stuck on a sandbar half the time.”

  “How big a start should we give Rose?” I asked. The breeze was now picking up and was quite cold here facing the open sea. “Should we see if there is somewhere to get a cup of tea or coffee first?”

  Belinda hesitated. “Anything to put it off a little longer,” she said. “I so wish we hadn’t agreed to do this. But there wasn’t really any way out of it, was there? She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Buck up, old thing. It might be quite fun.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Good food and a good bed, anyway.”

  “I don’t think I could define time spent with Rose as fun,” she said, shrugging off my hand. “And I’m worried about Tony. What if Rose is not proving satisfactory in the marital department and he wants to resume where we left off?”

  “I’ll stick to you like glue, if you like,” I said. “But you should give poor Rose the benefit of the doubt. And if it’s too uncomfortable, we’ll find our excuse to leave.”

  Belinda nodded. She had been staring down the estuary in the direction of Trewoma. Now she turned back to the tackle shop. “They might know where we could find a cup of tea,” she said.

  As she was about to go in a man was coming out, his arms laden with several packages. He almost bumped into her.

  “Oh, I’m frightfully sorry,” he said. Then he squinted, frowned and exclaimed. “My God, it’s Belinda. What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  “Uncle Francis!” Belinda cried. “I had no idea you were in this part of the world.”

  “Oh yes, rather. Lying low for a while, don’t you know.”

  Now I had a chance to examine him I could see the resemblance. He had Belinda’s dark eyes and straight nose but his features were now marred by bags under those eyes and sagging jowls. He wore a jaunty yachting cap and sported a pencil-thin mustache in the manner of Clark Gable. I could see he might have been handsome once, but had lived too much of a good life for too long.

  “So where are you living?” she asked. “Have you bought a place down here?”

  “Not exactly a place, my dear child. Having not inherited a fortune like you, but a mere pittance to keep me off the streets. Unfortunately I was not the favored one. My dear mama did not trust my judgment when it came to money. I am left an allowance, pocket money, like a child. So I have bought a boat. Nice little craft. F
orty footer. Big enough to live on and I’ve got her moored across the way in Padstow. I go up and down the coast as the mood takes me. Even across the Channel when I feel daring. Fancy free, that is me.”

  He had a light and high-pitched voice for his size. He was smiling as he spoke, but I noticed his eyes darted around, as if he was scared of being noticed.

  “More to the point, what are you doing here?” he asked. “There’s nothing for you in this part of the world, is there? Not now Trengilly is long gone.”

  “Actually part of my inheritance was a fishing cottage called White Sails,” Belinda said.

  “That old ruin? My darling child, you are welcome to it. I don’t know what you’d do with it. It’s good for nothing except smuggling brandy.”

  “You’re right. It is pretty ghastly,” she said.

  “You’re not staying there, are you?” he asked.

  “Last night. That was enough. But we’ve been invited to stay at Trewoma. Rather more civilized, don’t you think?”

  “Trewoma. My, my, that’s moving up in the world. Although the new owner is not my favorite person.”

  “Tony Summers, you mean? You know him?”

  “Summers. Yes, that’s the name. I can’t say I know him. Certainly know of him. He owns the mooring rights on this stretch of river. He’s raising the prices. Charging a fortune. And the crab and lobster rights too. A fellow can’t even catch himself a decent lobster without running afoul of that blighter Summers and the local law.” He wagged a chubby finger at her. “You might just point out to him that local chappies like me are struggling to pay his rents while he lives in luxury. He’ll pay for it when the communists take over.”

  Belinda laughed. “Are they about to take over? And don’t tell me you are a communist? I seem to remember you were always fond of the good things of life.”

  “I’d willingly change my tune to see that blighter Summers get his just deserts,” he snapped. “In fact if you’d like to put some rat poison in his tea while you’re there, I’d be very grateful. Do it for your old uncle, eh?”